Dumpster Diving
by MerissaFaye
Summary: Clary goes to college at The Institute. Her roommate is Isabelle. Clary comes face to face with Jace, helping his sister move in. It's apparent the semester would be tough, when Jace recalls Clary's high school nickname, Dumpster Girl, a name he gave her when he bullied her. Unsurprisingly, Clary is stubborn to forget their past, but Jace is looking to move forward. Can they?
1. Welcome to the Institute, Clary Fray

Dumpster Diving, Chapter One: Welcome to The Institute, Clary Fray

* * *

It was apparent that despite graduating high school and moving on to college, some people would just never grow up. As I drove down the highway with my life packed in the backseat of my car, hooting and hollering from outside my window alerted me that I was nearing the campus I'd spend the next four years studying on. The feeling was a lot different than the one I got when I first stepped into Pandemonium High. College at The Institute was going to be a place of independence and growth – well, for some people.

Another group of rowdy college students shouted at me from the sidewalks, immaturely making motions I wish I could un-see. Upperclassmen got to campus before freshman, which didn't help my nerves any; if this place wasn't anything like my high school experience, I would probably be okay.

Problem was, most of the students at Pandemonium High filtered straight into The Institute. There were more than just a few faces I'd never wanted to see on campus. But there was one I definitely couldn't wait for.

Simon, my best friend.

...

Moving into my dorm, Raziel Hall, I felt my emotions gathering up within me, ready to burst. My nerves became unglued when I heard that my only roommate had already arrived and moved into the room. Sighing, I took the key from the registration counter and padded up the stairs until I was on the fourth floor. It would be a nightmare of a year having to trek up four flights of stairs every day.

You'd imagine my surprise when I reached my assigned room to see that it was propped open and my roommate was none other than Isabelle Lightwood, Pandemonium High's most popular female. She was standing at the other side of the room, hanging pink Christmas lights on the walls. Staring wide-eyed into the room, I saw that the living area was already being decorated according to Isabelle's taste – with pink-painted furniture and lace pillows adorning the couch. A flat-screen TV was pushed up against the wall, waiting to be plugged in. From another room, her brother Alec Lightwood came walking out and leaned down to work on the TV, not seeming to notice my presence at the door.

There was no place in the living area untouched by the girl I so bitterly avoided in high school. Everything she touched turned to gold. I had never been interested in popularity myself, like all the other Isabelle worshippers happened to be. My life was perfect without complications, and that was just the way I liked things.

Stepping further into the room, I peeked around, cringing at the fashion magazines lying in piles on the pink coffee table. Deciding I hated the color pink, I shook my head in revulsion and treaded toward the empty individual bedroom that was possibly the only thing Isabelle's touch hadn't reached. I shuddered at the thought of how her individual room might look if the living area was already so vibrantly disgusting.

My individual room was small, with a twin-sized bed pushed against one wall sitting next to a night stand, both which were opposite the dresser and desk. The closet in the room was almost non-existent, but I didn't really need much space – my wardrobe consisted mostly of graphic tees and jackets or pullovers with jeans and sneakers. The only exceptions were the clothes that my mom had thrown into my wardrobe; clothes from when she was my age. She was desperate to rid herself of anything that reminded her of Valentine, my father; I didn't want to think about him either, but accepted the clothes anyway to please my mother.

From the other room I heard shouting, most likely Isabelle's. "No that should go in my room, not the living room!" There was some shuffling and then Alec began to talk to her, wishing her luck with her roommate when she showed up. I scowled, realizing that with my short stature and resigned acceptance of my fate, my entrance had not alerted them to my arrival. There was no point in delaying the introduction, though it was apparent that Isabelle would be disappointed.

About to make my not-so-grand entrance, I paused at the doorway of my room and the living room when I heard a voice that hadn't belonged to either Lightwood. Upstaging my entrance was a voice I recognized and instantly despised – Jace Wayland, Isabelle's adoptive brother. His voice echoed on the walls of the room, as he stepped into the living area from Isabelle's individual room. "If this roommate of yours doesn't like pink, we'll never hear the end of it," he sang – I mean, said. His voice really did emanate something angelic, as if he had been touched by an angel himself. I tried to ignore the feeling in my chest that stirred when I heard his beautiful voice, remembering that I hated him.

I rolled my eyes and grunted in disappointment at the situation, which tipped everyone off in the room, that they weren't alone. All eyes centered on me, standing in the doorway of my new home. I wasn't sure my face could have felt more heated or looked any darker a shade of red.

Jace pushed his long blonde hair behind an ear and smirked at me, tilting his head in curiosity. He leaned against Isabelle's doorframe, his body tall and lean, wearing dark-wash jeans and a simple white V-neck that show off his muscular frame. The curiosity had vanished from his face and within seconds, an expression of realization surfaced. Aside from his smirk, there was a glint in his eyes that made me extremely nervous of his revelation.

Alec and Isabelle looked to Jace questioningly, before their mouths formed an "o" and they nodded their heads remembering, too.

"What a pleasant surprise," Jace said smoothly, as he detached himself from the doorframe. He looked right at me as he spoke, his golden eyes striking as if they were speaking. "It seems that Dumpster Girl is your new roommate, Isabelle. You might consider changing the color palate of the room to something…" he paused, looking for words. I realized that it was most likely dramatic effect, because he always seemed to know what to say. "Trashier." He broke off with a laugh, though he maintained his composure. Everything to him seemed graceful and effortlessly attractive, which caused me to seethe from the inside-out.

Isabelle paused and sighed, stepping toward me. "Well, welcome roomie," she said, hesitating but outstretching her arms for a hug. I shut my eyes and rubbed my forehead, feeling like soon enough my brain cells would begin to commit homicide toward each other.

When I opened my eyes again, Jace was standing closer than he was before, with Isabelle's Eau de Perfume in his hand, aiming it dangerously close to my face. I watched in pure humiliation as he sprayed perfume in the air around me with a satisfied look on his face. Behind Jace, Alec laughed, but attempted to conceal it.

Isabelle, standing next to me smiled politely. "Okay, now a hug is in order," she said with less hesitation, as if the perfume had changed something. "Here's to a new future at college!" She squealed and breathed in the perfume, putting her arms around me and hugging tightly.

She coughed and waved her hand at her face, backing away, snickering. I watched in awe as Jace again stepped closer to me, the distance someone would stand if they were with a friend. However, he wasn't which made the motion feel suspicious. "You smell rather good," he noted, winking in my direction.

Mortified, I hung my head in despair and mentally cursed myself for not straying from the typical path after Pandemonium High. _Welcome to The Institute, Clarissa Fray_, I thought to myself, as a small part of myself felt like it died inside.

...

"He really did that? What a jerk! You know, I ought to come over there and-"

I juggled my phone in my hands and switched ears as I walked with purpose as far away as I could from my dorm. Simon, my best friend, was on the other end of the phone reacting my explanation of the scene I had just emerged from in my new room. When I placed the phone back at my ear I realized Simon was still rambling.

"Because Jace Wayland is so much worse than Narcissus himself! He really needs to realize that Pandemonium is behind us and we don't even live in Alicante anymore! We're in Idris now and he needs to move on! It's college! At The Institute! I'm telling you Clary; if he doesn't leave you alone I swear I'll sock him for you! Just give me a minute to come down-"

"Simon!" I shouted hastily, trying to keep my voice down. People were on campus in swarms, moving into their dorms or settling in to learn campus. Some curious eyes peeked my way, but I ignored them and walked faster, away from Raziel Hall**.** "There's nothing I can do about it so I will just suffer in silence. Silence, okay! And if he gets on my nerves too much all I have to do is ignore him," I said, shaking my head.

It would be easier said than done. Something about his whole aura drew me in – whether it was his voice or his attractiveness, I wasn't sure – but the words he spoke and the indignant attitude he had about himself easily contradicted any attraction I had toward him, cancelling the effect. Back in high school I may have dreamed of him coming to his senses. Now I had grown into more common sense and a level head, with a better understanding that Jace Wayland would never change. He would forever be a bully.

On the other side of the phone I heard a loud alarm and Simon grunted. I flinched at the loud sound and my heart started to race. "Simon, are you okay?" I asked with haste. Sometimes he gave me plenty of reason to worry. He'd used to call me from the boys' bathroom in Pandemonium and ask me to bring him a change of clothes –which he kept in our shared locker – because the popular crowd of Jace and his groupies had poured sticky energy drinks all over the front of his pants. Once he'd even called from a janitor closet because Jace had locked him in; it had taken me two hours to track down someone with a key.

Simon shushed me, "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, I just accidently hit the car alarm. Don't worry, Clary. You worry too much about other people." I could tell from his tone that despite what he said, he still appreciated that I cared. He had been the only friend I ever had or felt like I needed, and I had been his.

"I mostly worry about you," I reminded him.

There was an undeniable smile in his voice, if you could hear what a smile sounded like. "You're the best, Clary Fray."

I smiled, "What are friends for?"

There was a pause on the line, before I heard a click and looked down to see that Simon had hung up on me, which felt great in retrospect of how my day had gone so far. I glowered at the phone.

"Clary!" I heard Simon's familiar voice shouting. Staring at my phone, I realized it was not the source of the voice. I looked up frantically and to my pleasure saw Simon waving at me from across the sidewalk. Apparently I had known exactly where to walk to cool down, because it was right to Simon's dorm, Azazel Hall.

Taking in my best friend – whom I had seen just last night when we had a mini goodbye high school party, just the two of us – I saw that he wore his typical ensemble of skinny jeans and a t-shirt with a funny saying on it. Today it read: "Never trust an atom. They make up everything". I shook my head, smiling in his direction; all the dorky things Simon liked seemed to cheer me up.

He outstretched his arms and I ran toward him, lunging into a warm embrace that made everything that happened today melt away. Simon was my best friend and having him here for my college experience meant everything to me.

He kissed my hair and pulled back to look at me. "That's my Clary, no tear stains at all! Proud of you!" He picked up my hand and examined it. "I see no blood stains either, meaning you didn't take care of the prick. You sure you don't want me to pound him in for you?" He laughed, but I could tell he was somewhat serious. I took another look at him – his slender body had little curvature to it and his lanky height seemed disproportionate. His nerdy black frame glasses and liking for sarcastic graphic t-shirts made him appear less intimidating. I shook my head and went along with it anyway, as if he really could beat Jace to a pulp.

Smiling, he put an arm around my waist and ushered me inside to the third floor so he could show me his dorm room. Inside, I met his roommate, a muscular boy named Jordan. Or Kyle. I forget which, to be honest. Simon said he goes by both names, so I shrugged it off. Admittedly, I wasn't good at making friends, especially because high school seemed to give me no experience in the area. Simon and I were the people everyone picked on, so anyone who wanted to avoid bullying seemed to avoid us like the plague. We ended up not minding, using each other's company to make the experiences lightly less terrible.

Simon's living room looked like a normal dorm room should have looked – a shared space with a few personal belongings from each roommate. Mine had been completely redone by Isabelle, who had likely planned how to decorate it all summer. From what I gathered, she was a control freak about things, which made this year seem all the more dreadful.

Simon tugged at my shirt, dragging me into his room, out of my nightmarish reverie. "Check out the setup," he announced proudly.

His individual room was almost completely moved into and organized; with his video games decorating the desk, the textbooks stacked in a neat pile by his backpack, and his comic books displayed proudly on the shelf above the desk. On his bedside stand stood a single picture of himself with his sister Rebecca, his mother, and myself. Simon's arm was slung protectively around me in the picture, causing a tug at the side of my lips.

I nodded with appreciation. "Groovy place. Wish they did co-ed rooms because I'd much rather live with you than my new monster of a roommate."

Grimacing, I stared at my feet. It would be a long semester if the same thing that happened today happened over and over again. In retrospect maybe running off had been a bad start because now they had me pinned for an easier target; I may have caused more trouble than I meant to, though clearing my head after that run-in felt important, especially if I was going to have to learn some patience.

Reluctantly, I decided that spending time to get to know Isabelle, despite what had happened, would be in my own best interest if I really wanted to have a new start at The Institute. After a short goodbye, I waved to Simon and exited Azazel Hall, trying to remember where Raziel Hall was. Before leaving it would have been a smart idea to check a map, but I guess today I felt rather impulsive.

Wandering the campus, I noticed a few things. When I was willing to smile and make eye contact with new people they often grimaced and looked away, muttering "freak" as they passed. If I saw someone I recognized they would recall my high school nickname and tell the person next to them about it. Even when I sat at a bench and tried to make conversation with the person next to me, they would just stand up and walk away.

Campus life was supposed to be different, except it felt too much like high school did, which was disheartening. I was always the perfect target for the bullies at my school, including Jace Wayland. That, I guess, would never change.

Remembering why I was on my walk in the first place, I tried to shake away the name from my thoughts, but bells in my head just kept going off. It was like his name was a beautiful song meant to be sung. Everything about his appearance seemed so surreal and made me want to believe that he was a good person – and everything I had learned about his behaviors had given the opposite effect.

Usually I tried not to judge someone before I gave them a chance. Over the years, Jace Wayland's chances were dwindling, decreasing every time he picked on Simon or myself. I badly wanted to give him a deserving college re-do that I thought everyone would be doing, except it turned out that no one seemed to believe in second chances. Instead, everyone seemed to just run with their old high school crowd or someone from another high school in the same type of clique as they were in. I guess that meant I needed to find a short, red-headed girl with a geeky best friend to befriend.

By the time I returned to my dorm, I realized it had only been about an hour since I left. Jace Wayland was gone, but Alec remained, helping his sister Isabelle to get situated by doing what he was told to do. She was barking orders when I entered the room, the door still propped open from before.

Seeing that Jace wasn't there gave my rumbling stomach a feeling of relief. On the way to the room I had felt nauseated about the incident before and prayed history would never repeat itself.

Isabelle looked up as I entered and forced a smile. It wasn't easy to decipher whether it was genuine or not; perhaps while I was gone they had devised a series of pranks to implement throughout the year so that my life remained miserable. But then again, their lives didn't revolve around me, which left me hoping that being ignored would be my punishment for being the loser that lives with Isabelle.

I could handle being shunned – but humiliated all year, I could not handle. Only time would tell which would occur.

* * *

**Leave your thoughts about my first chapter in a review, they are always appreciated :)  
**


	2. He was a Demon

Dumpster Diving, Chapter Two: He was a Demon

* * *

Nausea burned in the heart of my stomach as I opened the door to the dorm room to investigate who was knocking outside, and it was Jace Wayland, the very last person I expected or wanted to see.

He smirked at me the way he did the day before, with the dreaded perfume incident. "You smell delicious today. Did you borrow Isabelle's perfume again?"

Shouldering past me, he let himself into the room, his expression irritated when he found Isabelle's bathroom door closed. The good thing about having individual dorm rooms inside a larger living space was that we got our own bathrooms, too. When I had gotten up a half hour before, Isabelle had been in the bathroom doing her hair or makeup or whatever was taking so long, like she still had been now that Jace arrived. I wondered what could have possibly taken so long, but decided I didn't care enough to hover over the curiosity. Maybe the reason why Isabelle was always so perfectly put-together was precisely the fact that she had spent hours in the morning preparing and I didn't feel the need to.

Suddenly annoyed with Jace's presence, I crossed my arms across my chest and glared at the intruder in my room. It was evident that I would have little privacy throughout the year, a thought that send angry shockwaves of energy through my body and into my hands. I felt my nails digging into my palms as I formed a fist with each hand, struggling to contain my anger as I looked at Jace. Was he just here to torment me or did he really just come to visit his sister in the morning?

His arrival appeared too suspicious for me, so I began to question his motives. Mostly I was just paranoid that high school was doomed to repeat itself. _You have no backbone, Clary Fray, _I mentally cursed at myself. Instead of letting events take their course, I would need to learn to stand up for myself, like I never did in high school.

Easier said than done, when standing up for myself required taking down Jace Wayland and that playful all-knowing smirk of his. I wanted to wipe it off his face.

Instead, I squirmed in my shoes, uncomfortable with the idea of telling him off. _No backbone, _I reminded myself. Trying to keep my calm, I attempted to mirror how Jace had always composed himself, masking his emotions as if he had none. Or maybe he really had none.

One of his eyebrows shot up as he searched my face, curiosity perking as he noted the rather unintimidating angry front I was putting on.

Finally, I got so annoyed that I felt my voice blurting out words that I hadn't given myself permission to say. "Don't you have something better to do with your time than come to my place to bother me in the morning? I'm going to need you to leave because I have to go to class in a few min-"

He cut me off by placing a finger over my lips. Startled at the touch, I jumped backwards, ignoring the way it felt to be touched by him. As angelic as he may have looked – his features golden and prominent – his heart was full of venom, I was sure of it.

"Listen, Dumpster Girl. I'm just here to walk with Izzy to class," he assured me, though I felt less than reassured about his intentions when the horrible nickname reminded me of the torturous things he was capable of doing.

It still felt like he was out to get me – why else would he be so cruel at 7:30AM?

He looked at me with a sort of bored expression on his face, as if I were nothing more than an annoying side-effect of visiting Isabelle. He spoke again, "Isabelle, Alec and I have English 101 with Morgenstern. Can I assume that since most freshmen need the same general classes that I might see you there too?"

Cursing to myself again, I recalled that my first class was also English 101 with Morgenstern. This epiphany left a bitter taste in my mouth of regret and disdain for the boy that stood in front of me, arms crossed over his chest. As usual, it was hard to deny that his appearance had little effect on me; his beautiful tendencies of having a near-constant grin on his face – though it was usually a sarcastic smirk – left me speechless. However, it shouldn't have matter considering the ugly habit he had of bullying people like me into low self-confidence.

"So I guess I'll see your bright and shining face every morning at 7:30AM?" I asked regretfully, trying to spit the sarcasm in his face.

Two could play his game – and after yesterday it wasn't wise to just lie down to die or let him win. It gave him too much of an ego boost, I noticed. Still, it would take a lot of energy to keep up a strong appearance against him. I supposed I could afford to expend my energy if it meant that Jace could potentially grow tired of tormenting me and I could finally have a true college experience, as anyone else would be able to have.

"Aw, how cute," he cooed at me, poking my nose. I hesitated, imagining myself smacking his hand away from my face; or even better, smacking him across the face. However, I remained quiet as he continued to tirade. Clouds of my angry energy began to encircle my body as I listened, disheartened by the way he spoke to me. "The short redhead has a little crush, does she? I assume that by your expression you are thinking deeply about how smothering my charming good looks are." He winked.

He didn't deserve any more of my time, I decided. Even though I couldn't muster enough confidence to punch him in the face or shout back responses to defend myself, fleeing the scene seemed like the next best option. I left the room with a hurry, my backpack flung over my shoulder as I dramatically stomped away, the static clouds of my anger following as if a spark inside of me lit up.

"See you at class! Save me a seat!" Jace hollered after me as I power walked toward the stairs, taking them two at a time.

If I hadn't removed myself from the situation fast enough, I feared how I would handle another second of Jace's endless emotional torment. It wasn't as if he were teasing me very much – he just happened to know the best methods of teasing that would stay with me forever, endlessly bothering me until his torture penetrated the walls of my brain and affected the way I handed my everyday life.

_He was a demon_, I thought with malice, _a stupidly attractive demon who only knew how to hate_. I seethed, as my mind turned, thinking about how hateful he was and how much I hated him for it.

…

It was the first day of school and it was already turning out to be a train-wreck I couldn't escape. After my morning I wished I had someone to walk to class with. The experience of walking alone to class felt that much more like high school by the second. Even at 7:30AM as students walked to their early 8AM classes, people always went by in clusters.

Idly I wondered why Simon and I hadn't scheduled together – it sure would have made life easier to have someone I already knew in class. It would have been nice to vent to him about my hatred toward Jace or anything involving Jace. Unfortunately, Simon and I had only one class together, we discovered with dissatisfaction when we compared our schedules last night, and that class was only on Fridays. It was hard to believe that I'd only get to rest in the comfort of a friend for one class out of the week.

Meanwhile, Isabelle and I had three classes together out of five. We had compared notes last night out of an obligation to the roommate agreement of the dorm. It was all I could do to pray that Jace or Alec hadn't taken all of the same classes Isabelle had.

I already knew I would see Jace's oh so wonderful face soon enough – a thought I dreaded with an intensity I couldn't understand. Before Jace Wayland, I wasn't a hateful person, but he made me question why I gave people so many chances.

I was early to the classroom and the lights were out. Flicking on the lights by the door, I had my choice in seats in the small room. I could sit in the front and look like the teacher's pet, or in the back and look like I didn't want to be there, or in the middle where it felt safe; not too close to the professor but not too far away. Settling on the safer bet – despite previously telling myself I would try to take chances at college – I plopped my backpack down by a chair in the middle row, on an end. It was a small class because it was English and today I wanted to draw as little attention to myself as possible.

As time lapsed and approached the start of class, I would squeeze my eyes shut with worry every time I saw a blonde with long chin-length flowing hair, worried it would be Jace.

When he finally did appear, it was only when I was off-guard. He sat next to me, sprawling out in the chair and relaxing. At first I wasn't sure it was him – it could have been any blonde – but when he stretched his arms and "accidently" bopped me in the head, I knew it was him.

From my peripheral vision I saw how satisfied he looked to see me squirming. It was all I could do to not get up and change desks; however they filled up before I had the chance.

I turned my head toward Jace and glared, catching a quick glimpse of Isabelle and Alec talking next to him, oblivious to the hatred I felt radiating between myself and Jace. Clearly the fact that he chose the seat next to me was a cheap shot. He wanted to prove that he won, but I didn't care. I glared as hard as I could at his face, which held a certain amount of attitude in his expression.

"Are you challenging me to a staring contest?" he suggested, eyes bright with malevolent curiosity.

That was when I realized I was officially his new play toy for the year, maybe the rest of my college career. My deepest concerns became reality, as the truth of the situation settled in.

This was what I would be in for, at least every weekday for an hour at 8AM. I prayed this would be the only class I would have to spend in his presence, though I couldn't know for sure until I made it to my other classes.

He tapped his pencil on my head. "Trade schedules?" he basically said, rather than asked, as he snatched my schedule off my desk where I had laid it out. He scanned the paper and grinned widely, confirming my dread. "All five classes," he said with pride. My skin reddened as I realized that I only had four classes and a lab as a freshman. And he had all five. "It's your lucky day, Dumpster Girl," he said, his voice sending chills down my spine. It was the bad kind of chills – the ones that you got before something bad was about to happen. The fear set in, taking root in the heart of my chest.

It would take a miracle to prevent myself from strangling him before the end of the semester was over. In high school I thought I would someday escape his wrath, telling myself that I would ever since he started picking on me in 9th grade. Yet here I was, four years later still powerless to shake the world's worst bully. If I didn't do something about it now, I'd never get him off my back.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw him smirking again, his mockery testing my strength and will power to hold myself back from finally releasing all my angry energy into a punch in his pretty face. Sighing, I knew I could never punch someone – not even Jace. I was completely incapable of escaping the circumstances.

He tossed my schedule back at my desk and reached out again, taking my hand in his. Alarmed, I tried to pull my arm back, but he was strong. Using a permanent marker he magically drew from his backpack, he scribbled something on my forearm, then released my hand. I pulled it back and stared at the writing in awe.

"It's my number," he explained, as if I were incapable of figuring it out on my own. "For when you hopelessly fall in love with me and decide you want to send me fan mail."

Appalled, I tried to rub the number off my arm, but the permanent marker had dried and seeped into my skin. Why was he going to so much effort to make my day feel so dreadful? I wasn't aware that I had provoked him enough – or at all – to deserve such treatment. I remembered how angry I was this morning when I had stomped away, painfully realizing that I had brought this on myself by fighting back at him in the littlest way possible, with my stubborn hateful energy.

It still felt bizarre to see how strongly he was coming on today, as if I had opened up Pandora's Box and this was the worst possible situation. If I hadn't grasped that fate could be so cruel before, I was wildly aware of it now.

Back in high school, he had only really spent the time bullying me when it was in the lunch room for everyone to see or after school before the busses left. Either way, he liked to tease with an audience present to glorify his actions. Now that he had no onlookers, other than his siblings Isabelle and Alec, it seemed abnormal for him to waste his time tormenting someone who didn't do anything wrong to him other than feel anger toward his nuisance.

Jace looked as if he were about to speak again, but the loud, demanding voice of our professor captivated the room's attention and side conversations fell almost instantly. Morgenstern was a tall, slender man with light hair that reminded me of Jace's. He looked vengeful despite his seemingly-young age, as if he was filled with years of wrath that built up from teaching irresponsible students.

As if my morning could get any better.

Relieved for the interruption from the confrontation with Jace, I stared toward the front of the class, able to avoid making contact with Jace until the end of the lecture. The professor droned on during the first ten minutes about how he grades and what the class would be like, before we went right into Shakespeare analysis, to my dismay. The hour never seemed to end.

When class finally came to a close, I got up slowly and remembered that my next class started in a half hour – 9:30AM Biology 110 with Aldertree. And Jace and Isabelle had the class too. It seemed doubtful that Alec would have a different class, but when he broke off from his siblings and waved goodbye for the day I felt slight relief; Jace had less backup to torture me with.

Jace made me walk behind himself and Isabelle on the way to the next class, but I felt so angry at their disrespect that I sped up my pace, willing my short legs to outstretch and carry me to class faster than Jace and Isabelle's long legs. They were both built tall, I thought out of envy. Alec, too.

By the time I made it to the classroom to pick my seat, my legs were burning.

The next class went by without a word from Jace or Isabelle, who sat next to me again as if I were their friend. It felt confusing and wrong because they still acted like they felt better than me, yet they were interacting with me all morning, even if it was just to tease me.

I wondered how they weren't bored of me already – even dogs get tired of their play toys after a while, so why weren't they?

Another hour went by and Biology ended at 10:30AM, leaving an hour break before my last class of the day. The moment finally came when Isabelle waved goodbye to Jace, leaving the two of us alone.

There was nothing that compelled me to stay by him, in fact my aversion to his attitude that morning seemed to propel my feet faster as I high-tailed it off in the opposite direction Jace, even though the last class we had was in a completely different direction.

Somehow, Jace caught up and put a hand on my shoulder, stopping me.

I turned to him and for a moment thought he was going to be serious, but felt even more repulsed when all he did was make a "Dumpster Girl" joke.

My mind flashed back to the moment I earned the nickname:

_It was sophomore year. Jace and I had two classes together, which was miserable because now he was able to bother me at lunch, in class and after school. As much as I tried to remain positive, his torment broke me down every night, tears streaking my face and leaving my face puffy every morning. _

_Simon often slept over at my house on the worst of the nights when I called him over, but that was okay because my mom trusted him. We were like twins – and he was the only boy my mom would have ever granted bedroom privileges. We got used to sleeping in the same bed for a while, as he'd hug me when I cried about Jace's torment, until I just fell asleep in his arms. _

_Simon was always trying to make me feel better about myself. Sometimes it worked, but I mostly felt powerless to change any of the bullying. I knew Simon often felt this way too, so I tried to be there for him when he needed me, just like he was when I needed him. Our bond grew increasingly strong through high school, though we hadn't thought it could be possible we could get any closer. _

_Finally, it had gotten to the point where I got so angry that Jace was hurting me and I told him off, partially because Simon was always telling me to fight back. The day that I fought back at Jace for his teasing, he left school with a glower and returned the next day grinning evilly from ear to ear. He was planning something terrible, and the only thing I could do was wait to find out the consequences. _

_It wasn't in my power to do anything, in fact it felt inevitable. Simon watched with horror as the end-of-school bells rang and Jace with his gang had lured me to the back lot, with a crowd forming to watch as Jace unzipped my backpack and dumped its contents into the dumpster. _

_Jace gave me a look I'd never forget that day – it burned into my soul, etching pain and sorrow into my life that would never escape me. He was smiling, when his cold voice told me to "Dive in, where I belong" to retrieve my things. _

_Simon had screamed at me and struggled against one of Jace's henchmen, who held Simon's arms behind his back. Sebastian, I think. Simon screamed, telling me not to worry about my stuff and that he would buy me new school supplies. However, he and I both knew that one of the last things I owned of my father was now lying in a pile of filth in the bottom of the dumpster. _

_It was a ring, passed through the family that I couldn't part with. I longed for it, ashamed that I had taken the ring off in gym class that day, because now it was lost in the bottom of a dumpster._

_My head tilted down in shame. I accepted Jace's "help" as he threw me into the dumpster over his shoulder to retrieve my things. Then, Jace left, the crowd following, and all that was remained was Simon. I was so short that I couldn't get out of the dumpster until Simon located a Principal or Janitor to help me out._

_The next day at school pictures were printed and taped all over the lockers of my dumpster diving experience, and they called me Dumpster Girl ever since. I remembered fingering the ring, as it was strung at my neck through a necklace, and crying as I walked through the hall the day after the incident._

Returning to reality, I saw Jace waving a hand in my face. He was irritated that I was ignoring his crude attempt at jokes or humor, as if it really mattered.

If he got out of bed every day with the pride of knowing he could break me down, I felt almost sorry for him, maybe even more sorry than I felt for myself. I could never act like he did, hurting other people for entertainment.

Disgusted, I detached myself from the parasitic presence of Jace Wayland, walking with purpose toward my last class of the day, Psychology 100 with Pangborn. This time I sat in-between a few strangers in the lecture hall, distancing myself from Jace, trying to dispel every thought of him from my mind.

The only thing that made the hour go by easier was Simon; knowing that he would be waiting for me at the dining hall for lunch, where I could vent to him about my misfortunes. He was possibly the only person who could ever understand the hatred I had towards Jace Wayland.

* * *

**Thank you guys for your reviews, follows and favorites! I'm very excited about writing this story; it's my first fan fiction on this site, but I am no stranger to fan fiction! Please review and let me know what you think! As of right now I plan to update this once or twice a week: Mondays and Fridays. I'm a college student though so if I don't update on Monday, just know that Friday will be the next update! Thanks again!**


	3. Scrawny Video Game Nerd, Simon

Dumpster Diving, Chapter Three: Scrawny Video Game Nerd, Simon

* * *

Simon's presence made every tense muscle in my body instantly relax, the events of this morning fading into a distant dream, or rather a nightmare. It became easier to suppress the pain I had felt from that morning when I saw Simon's innocent and smiling face, as he approached me on the sidewalk, his curly hair bouncing as he came. My eyes flickered to his t-shirt; its saying had a sense of irony today – _Free Hugs_. I felt ready to claim all the free hugs for myself.

He took my hand, a comforting gesture I had grown used to during the course of our friendship. It never felt wrong to hold Simon's hand; we didn't hold hands out of romantic affection, but because we gained a sense of security through our friendship. As always, holding his hand gave me an instant sense of ease.

Simon was the best friend anyone could have ever asked for; he was one of the only people I found that I was able to completely trust with aspects of my life that sometimes I even denied to myself. He had this way of making me blurt out feelings or emotions I never knew existed and he could always help me make sense of it all. Today felt like no exception – by the end of the day he would know it all.

Stepping into the dining hall for the first time, I held Simon's hand tightly, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. Stations of themed restaurant-style foods were lined in a circle: Mediterranean, Southern Kitchen, Italian Pasta, Soup and Salad, American Dining… there were more, but they seemed to stretch out further than I could see. It seemed fancy. _So this is where all my tuition money goes, _I thought to myself.

The people at the door scanned our campus IDs and let us in. I followed Simon as he led the way, seeming aware that today I was in no mood to try new things. Sometimes it was really great to have a best friend with psychic abilities; no discussion was necessary for little things if my mood wasn't too great. But it also meant the bigger things were inescapable. I braced myself.

"I want a burger and fries," he said casually, his thumb tracing a line on his hand subconsciously. "If you want something different I'll walk with you to get your food first." He scratched the back of his neck with his free hand, ruffling the curly hair at the back of his head. I giggled.

"Classic Americana, delicious and fattening. Count me in!" It felt easier to let go of my frustrations in front of Simon. I could hide virtually nothing from him and besides that I had no reason to. Everything would come out in time, so there was no point spending any more time dwelling on points in my life I couldn't change.

Simon snickered and squeezed my hand, the pressure oddly reassuring. We arrived at the American Dining station and made our orders. As we waited for them to cook our burgers, I felt Simon stiffen next to me. He looked at me for a second, but averted his gaze, staring at something across the dining hall.

I followed his gaze, startled when I found myself looking at Jace, Isabelle, Alec and Sebastian, Jace's best friend from high school. There was one other boy at the table that I didn't recognize.

The most striking thing about seeing the group together was not how stupidly perfect they looked together; soon enough I comprehended that they were all staring in our direction, eyes focused on Simon and myself; Mostly myself.

I looked away with haste, feeling unsettled. Being around Simon was supposed to be my escape from the drama. Opening up would be much harder to commit to if we couldn't find a place that was free from the grasp of Jace's wrath. I began to wrap myself in my own thoughts, in a choking feeling of stress, as my mind flickered where I didn't want it to go – Jace at his table, with his friends staring directly at me.

Our orders finished and we took them, robotically. Simon led the way to the drink stand. I followed, feeling dumbfounded and in a daze. He seemed to notice but said nothing, too focused with leading me away from the dark stares in our direction.

We took our plates and drinks to a booth tucked in the corner of the dining hall, out of sight from the table of Jace and his minions. Simon looked at me, concern evident in his eyes.

I sighed, not wanting to have the conversation I knew was inevitable, but I couldn't avoid telling him my feelings about it all. He would see through them anyway, the way he always seemed to understand things about my life that I sometimes couldn't understand myself.

"I thought college would be different," I blurted. It would be easier to just be forthcoming about my feelings, regardless of how buried I wanted to keep them. "I just had hoped The Institute would be a new beginning for us both, you know?"

Maybe Simon was already on his way to a new beginning, I couldn't be sure. I felt guilty for dragging him into my problems once again, like I did in high school. He probably wouldn't have been picked on if it weren't for me. I pursed my lips, guilt invading my brain.

He nodded, his lips pursed, mirroring mine. He didn't seem mad at me for bringing any of this upon him – he didn't even seem concerned that the stares were in his direction too. This was Simon we were talking about; all he cared about was my wellbeing. It sounded terrible to admit that to myself, because there was so much more to him, more than meets the eye.

In this moment, however, all I could see in his expression was helplessness and worry. I could hear it in his voice too as he spoke. "I wish I could protect you better. I feel so guilty that we have only one class together and I can't be there to defend you." He glanced behind me, most likely meeting eyes with the table. My concerns were confirmed when he quickly looked at me, avoiding contact with the stares. I was glad I had my back to them. "Tell me about how your day with the table of minions went…" he trailed off, aware of where the conversation was headed.

Groaning, I shook my head. "I'd rather not discuss something that makes me want to throw up. It's lunch time. Maybe later."

I had thought I wanted to just get it all off my chest, but an image of Jace burned in my head, setting off a sense of fear within my brain. Maybe I wasn't ready to admit everything I felt, partially because I couldn't explain all of it. Jace was constantly hanging around me, torturing me more than he ever did, and for what reason I felt unsure.

Simon would be too concerned if I told him the truth – that as much as I hated Jace and how he treated me, there was something nagging in the back of my head, keeping my anger barricaded. But why? Jace deserved to see how he affected me, and yet I refused to openly express the painful anger I felt building every time I saw him.

What was it about Jace that kept me quiet about the situation? I never avoided Simon's line of questioning, as I did in this moment. Guilt rose in my chest, as I could feel pressure at the back of my throat building. My eyes felt almost heated, the pressure rising in them too, but I didn't give in to my instincts, I pushed them backward.

Why should I ever care about Jace when he puts me through so much hell? He hadn't even said a word to me after he spoke before Psych class, and yet his redhead jokes and teasing infiltrated my brain, a painful reminder that I despised him. He was mocking me and he wasn't even present! _How did he do that?_ I frowned at my burger.

Trying to ignore my thoughts, I focused more on the conversation, still adamant on avoiding most of it, if possible. This was Simon, he would sense a lie. I had to just withhold a little truth, in order to figure out how I felt about this; that was all.

I took a bite of my burger, pretending to feel a sense of lightness surrounding me in the sea of darkness that was Jace. This would be harder than I thought, holding something from Simon.

"Maybe if you had some meat on your bones they'd back off," I joked with a smile. The smile felt too bluntly false, but Simon was either pretending to not notice or he wanted to believe it was a true smile. The guilt I was fighting to push back began to overwhelm me again; I had never faked a smile in front of Simon before.

"Personal body guard is already a lot to ask of a scrawny guy like me," he said thoughtfully, laughing, clearly dismissing any worries I had about being caught. "Do video games count as a work out?"

I giggled, the sensation of happy laughter making me feel at home again. "You wish, Lewis," I said, using his last name as a nickname, something I usually did when I was willing to joke around and forget my everyday troubles. He always made it easier.

My body relaxed, slightly.

"Well you just be careful. By the way you're acting, I'm guessing they cornered you today and you're not telling me about it…" He trailed off to take a bite of his burger. He continued to speak, his mouth full. "I'd love to just give that Jace Wayland a piece of my mind-"

"How do you even know it was him? Maybe it was Isabelle." I glanced nervously up from my plate of fries as I took a bite.

Though I didn't show it, I felt myself inwardly conflicted. Why did I just say that? Why did I just defend Jace and try to pin the blame on Isabelle? Surely Simon would see through me now.

Simon didn't look convinced, as expected. "Only Wayland could put you in the state of agitation that you're currently in. You have all sorts of nervous energy that I suspect could turn into anger at any second." He paused, chomping on a fry. "You know, for a short redheaded girl that looks the opposite of intimidating, you sure have anger management problems." He winked, but it wasn't in the way that Jace always did – his wink was playful and in no way used in malice.

"I resent that!" I said, unable to hide a smile forming on my face. A real smile. It was the kind of smile that happened when I genuinely felt happy; and in this moment it was because Simon had me pegged. Who could ask for a better friend than someone who knew you more than you knew yourself?

"You mean resemble?" Again, he grinned and winked.

"Ouch," I feigned hurt, something not too difficult to muster when I had feelings of true pain hidden within me today. "You sure are sassy this morning."

He shrugged. "I know when my best friend is hurting. You took a serious beating today, whether you want to tell me about it or not." He eyed me suspiciously. "I'm sensing not."

I pursed my lips. He caught me and I knew he wouldn't give it up too easily. How I had ever convinced myself in the first place to avoid this conversation, I didn't know. It should have felt natural to just confide in Simon, to tell him every painful emotion or fiery agitation I felt. Something held me back, as it did whenever Jace pushed my buttons and I kept most of my anger held within.

What was happening with me?

I sighed. "I just don't know if I'm ready to talk about it. I feel so conflicted with angry emotions that I don't exactly want to act on. I'd rather just ignore them for now and hope that works."

"That will never work, Clary. And you know it." He frowned, his eyebrows furrowing in sadness. "Don't just let them walk over you! Personally I think they deserve to know the wrath of Clary Fray. Maybe try to give in to some of it!" He perked up, with the idea of me unleashing my anger seeming to change his attitude.

It felt funny, having Simon telling me that I should fight back at Jace with my anger. Best friends were supposed to talk you out of punching someone, not justify it.

The rest of the conversation turned into playful jabs or jokes, with my topic avoidance generally leading us into it. Simon felt my resistance and I could tell it hurt him, but he didn't say another word about it after that. It made my feelings of guilt much more prominent – he didn't deserve to feel hurt about this.

At some point Simon told me about his day and the video games he couldn't wait to play when he got back to his dorm room – something about a new World of Warcraft raid that his guild wanted to run. I tried to pay attention, but it felt like half of my attention was elsewhere, thinking about my day and what I would have done if I could do things differently.

_Should I have given in to my anger? Would I be in this situation now if I had actually defended myself instead of running away? _So many questions flirted in my mind, as I pondered them all. It was overwhelming, but Simon was right – I needed to get past this part of my life and do something for myself. Maybe that meant unleashing the monster inside of me – my unkempt anger.

We left the dining hall to head back towards the dorms, where we would part ways. I tried to keep an eye out for Jace's group, worried he'd try talking to me again. I didn't know how many more Dumpster Girl jokes I could handle.

Evidently just thinking his name was a bad omen. On the open sidewalks of campus, two tall muscular figures caught my eye from afar.

I bumped Simon's arm and he stopped mid-sentence, which admittedly I wasn't paying attention to. He nodded and pointed, whispering his plan of escape. We attempted to avoid contact, but Jace seemed to unbelievably have sensed our presence.

Soon enough they stalked over, stopping Simon and I in the middle of the sidewalk, onlookers brushing by us on both sides, unaware of the spectacle that was about to take place. I gulped, nervous with the confrontation – nervous because I didn't know if I could bring myself to show Jace that he affected me.

This was the part Simon was talking about – getting angry and letting him feel my wrath. _Was I strong enough to do it?_ I didn't know.

Even though he deserved my spite, I decided I would never let it get the better of me because that would give him the sense that he won. He could pick on me all he wanted, but I couldn't let him feel a rise out of it, nor could I let myself feel angry about it. Maybe the best way to handle the situation was to put on a strong face, despite Simon telling me to give in to my anger. If Jace could see that he didn't get to me – if he never saw my anger or my sadness or my hate, he would leave me alone.

Maybe.

The hair at the back of my neck stood up as I felt Jace's unwanted presence stepping closer. I was now face to face with Jace, the bane of my existence, and his best friend Sebastian, his loyal minion. Simon stood tense by my side, unsure what to make of the interaction, yet perceptive enough to understand it meant trouble.

"So I was thinking, how much is the asking price for a girl like you? So fragile and damaged…you must come at a reduced rate." Jace's calm voice was piercing, gutting me with its knife-like sharpness. He looked to Sebastian, a snide grin on his face. The way his lips turned up sent nervous pangs of nausea through my stomach.

I felt Simon's arm protectively snake around my body. "Leave Clary alone," he demanded, his voice unwavering. Whenever he came to my aid, his protective side seemed to bring out strength that I never knew could come from a scrawny video game nerd like Simon.

Sebastian snickered, as if Simon's act of protection were a weak show. "You know, Jace, she seems more than damaged if she needs the skinny freak to protect her. She's broken."

"So," Jace's voice said, cutting through my body. "What should we do about that? How does one get rid of a broken girl?…"

Simon glared menacingly at Jace. I was unsure how far he would go to protect me, but I began to worry that if physical confrontation occurred, he could be seriously hurt. Jace and his minions had never gone to the effort of physically torturing their victims, they had just focused on emotional damage – could that have evolved as they entered college?

"Cut it out," Simon demanded. His voice was rising as he grew increasingly angry at the attack. I watched in horror, as if I were watching from afar, my body unreactive; an out-of-body experience.

I wished Simon wouldn't let them get to his head. He was usually spared from their torment, or at least more than I was spared, probably because he had tried to remain indifferent over the years – but now that he was here protecting me and showing his anger, I feared he would become a target like I had always been. Something about my red hair and my ability to keep my anger fired up but contained kept them more interested in my victimization than anyone else. I feared that could have changed in an instant, when they saw Simon's protective side.

"We could sell her in a garage sale?" Sebastian asked, to Jace, who looked unsatisfied with the idea.

"I don't quite think she'd sell," Jace sneered. I wondered idly if they had practiced this banter.

Sebastian shrugged. "Ebay?"

I looked at Jace in awe, as he met my eyes. He spoke directly to me, rather than Sebastian. "We'd have to cover her face in the pictures."

"What about giving her to charity?" Sebastian asked, perking up slightly.

Their childish conversation could have probably been continued without my presence there, I decided. I tugged Simon's jacket and started to pull him away. His eyes met mine and he pleaded with me to do something big – to stand up for myself. I shook my head no, hell-bent on escaping.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, stopping me. It was Jace's, of course. Wasn't it always Jace?

"They don't take everything, do they?" Jace continued his conversation, looking to Sebastian. He turned his gaze back to me, emphasizing his words. "Who would want this broken, damaged girl?" Despite the fact that I wanted to ignore his words, they still stung.

Sebastian had an evil smile flickering on his face as his voice lowered. "Well then I guess we'll just have to put her out with the trash."

Something in Jace's eyes flashed, as he tightened his grip on my shoulder. From the corner of my eye I saw that Simon noticed, his jaw clenched in anger as a response. He had wanted me to do something and I missed my chance – and was going to suffer the consequences. This was my fault.

"We have a winner," Jace announced proudly. "Are you ready to dumpster dive again, Dumpster Girl?"

This seemed to have been the breaking point in Simon's resolve. He was in front of me, shoving Jace backward; and my eyes widened in shock. He was never the confrontational type and I had never expected him to be. "Stop it!" Simon shouted, agitated with the attack. "Don't you ever get bored of yourself?"

"Bored of what, being perfect?" A smirk began to form at the corner of Jace's lips. It never faltered, as Simon became increasingly angry with his snarky attitude.

Simon poked his finger at Jace's chest, trying to prove that he wasn't scared to stand up to them, however I noticed his hand slightly shaking and I realized he was. He was scared to confront them, but he was still doing it – for me.

I felt a rush of nervous energy in my stomach, nausea swirling at the idea of Simon getting hurt because he got caught up in trying to protect me. I put a hand on Simon's wrist, trying to pull him back from the situation, as I saw Sebastian situate himself in an intimidating flank beside Jace. I hesitated, releasing my grip on Simon, nervous when I saw Jace's backup flanking.

Still, Simon didn't waver, despite the comparison of himself to Jace's stature. Jace was a muscular athlete while Simon was an independent video gamer. He didn't stand a chance, but Simon didn't seem to care.

His voice came out composed, however in a sharp shout. "Your arrogance might cause your minion fan club to swoon, but it has no effect on Clary or I. Leave us alone."

Jace closed the distance between him and Simon, standing incredibly tall and intimidating in front of him. He pushed Simon backward, eyes flashing with delight as if he enjoyed it. Simon stumbled into me and I caught him, stumbling backwards myself.

A menacing expression in Jace's face sent a shiver down my spine. He stared directly at me as he spoke to Simon. "Proceed with caution. I could take you out to the trash too, band geek." He looked Simon up and down, his disgust unconcealed.

And with that, they disappeared into the shadows, leaving Simon and I dumbstruck. Or mostly just me, as I had been standing there, my jaw popped open in surprise the whole time.

Simon turned to me, enveloping me in a hug. "I can cancel my raid to stay with you," he whispered into my ear. My body felt numb to the touch.

I knew I should have felt something after that confrontation, but I almost felt like nothing. Just that numb, tingling feeling painfully-existent within in my body.

I shook my head, willing myself to let Simon go. He had done enough to protect me; meanwhile I had pushed him away. He didn't need to be any more involved in this than he was and that much was for sure.

"No Simon, it's okay. I need to just… think through this for a while. Maybe I'll stumble upon some unfound strength and figure a way out of this mess. Don't worry about me." I squeezed my arms around him, the hug unbelievably warm.

I didn't actually want to let go from the hug; I didn't actually believe I could find the solution to my problems. He needed to believe my words, though.

We finally released after a few minutes of the warm hug. I felt reluctant to let go, but I finally let Simon go to his video game. Turning on my heel, I started to head towards my dorm.

I turned to see Simon watching me leave, standing at the door to his dorm. I waved and he disappeared into the building, a reluctant smile on his face, as if he were still proud of me. Even though I hadn't faced my demons, he still seemed proud of my false strength. It left me feeling sick.

Once I was sure he was no longer watching, I changed direction and made my way to the parking lot where my car was parked, across campus where the freshmen had to park.

There was only one other person I would ever talk to when I couldn't find myself confiding in Simon, and that person was located an hour away from Idris. I was going to leave The Institute and return to my home Alicante to visit someone I knew could help me gain the confidence I needed in this condition.

Luke. I was going to go home to my mother and her fiancé, Luke.

Luke was like a father figure to me, ever since my biological father left before I was born. It was almost ironic that I kept my abandoning father's ring strung around my neck, when it was Luke who had the biggest impact on my life. Once I had tried to throw the ring away, but Luke had been there to assure me that it was okay to be mad at my real father, but to hold onto the ring because he knew that over the years it had kept me pushing on.

I smiled at the memory, of Luke's all-knowing and caring attitude. Even though I wasn't his daughter, he treated me like I was. And that was why I needed him.

When I reached my car, I felt my body convulse in a fit of pain, as tears streaked down my face. I rested my head at my hands on the steering wheel of the car, before I put my keys in the ignition and drove, refusing to look back.

* * *

**Hey all, thanks for reading! **

**I love your reviews and I will take everything to heart, so don't feel like your ideas are going unnoticed! The review that stood out to me the most was the person asking if Clary would ever stand up for herself. I promise she will! Next chapter is really the turning point for her, and after that things will start to pick up, as we start to see Jace changing too. I won't say how, but he, like Clary, will also develop a backbone!**

**Feel free to leave any comments, concerns, etc. in a review! Thanks for reading, following and the favorites!**

**I haven't written the next chapter to its entirety yet, so I'm not sure when it will be posted. I'll be posting updates on my twitter page ( MerissaFaye) if you want to see how the chapter is going! Thanks again :)**

**-M**


	4. Howling at the Moon

Dumpster Diving, Chapter Four: Howling at the Moon

* * *

My mother, Jocelyn, looked less than thrilled to see me walk through the front door of the townhouse I called home. I wiped the bottoms of my shoes on the rug and dropped my backpack down to the floor. Standing in front of me, Jocelyn crossed her arms. Her red hair was thrown in a messy bun and she was wearing old paint-stained jeans and a white t-shirt, which looked like it had fresh paint on it.

"Clarissa Fray," she scolded. "What on Earth are you doing home?"

I knew she had the right to be mad that I had just dropped everything and come home, when I was only supposed to use my car for emergencies – it wasn't exactly the most reliable hunk of metal.

No matter how mad she was at me, I was still happy to see her. I rushed forward and hugged her, feeling the wet paint of her shirt seeping into mine, however uncaring. She was tense, but relaxed when she felt the urgency of the hug.

I shut my eyes, willing myself to remain calm. When I opened my eyes again, Luke was standing at the entrance to the kitchen, watching us. Luke, despite knowing I wasn't supposed to be here, seemed happy to have me home. I released from the hug with my mom and jumped into Luke's arms next, thankful to be in his warm embrace.

"Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes," he chuckled as he rubbed my back, something he always did. "Everything okay at The Institute?"

I felt another hand at my back – Jocelyn's. She must have understood that something was wrong, otherwise she wouldn't have wasted her time with consoling gestures. My mother and I were close, but in the talk-about-your-problems kind of way, not the intimate hugging or touching kind of way, the way that Luke and I were. His hugs could literally dispel any negative feelings I was having.

Though not expecting me to be home, Jocelyn hurried to get out more supplies for sandwiches. I had caught her making a mid-day snack for her and Luke when I came in.

I joined them at the table, munching gratefully on the sandwich my mother made; it tasted much better than the food at the dining hall, but I decided not to complain about that. Jocelyn was pulling out all sorts of loans and doing a lot of extra work on her paintings in order to send me to college. As an only child, she wanted what was best for me.

And then there was Luke. He wasn't even my father yet, but he acted like he was. This summer he started putting more of his time into his business, a bookstore, in preparation for me entering college. It wasn't his responsibility to assist with college, but he had asserted to Jocelyn that he needed to pull his weight with some financial support. They would finally be married next year and he was already more like a father than my biological father, who had abandoned me.

Due to the fact that Luke replaced my biological father, my mother and I never talked about who my father really was. There was no need to with Luke around.

"Guys?" I questioned tentatively, as we all finished eating our sandwiches. Jocelyn and Luke met my eyes, waiting. "Can I just say that I'm really thankful to have both of you in my life?"

Jocelyn gasped, smiling warmly in response. She most likely hadn't anticipated me to change all that quickly at college, especially not in a day. Even though she and Luke both knew I appreciated them, I had never said anything about it before.

Luke just smiled, nodding his head. "We are appreciative to have you in ours too," he said, speaking for himself and Jocelyn. "I'm just about to go in to the bookstore to do some restocking. You can join me if you'd like?"

I nodded. "Sure, Luke. And thanks, both of you, for not getting too mad that I up and left school to come home. I really needed this. My first day was really rough."

This time, Jocelyn responded, her voice heartfelt and calming like I was used to. She was much better with her use of language to make me feel at home. "Clarissa, sweetie. You are always welcome home when you need us. We are here to support you. I wouldn't want you to make it a habit, though." Even with her parent-like tone that condoned my behavior of leaving school on my first day, she was still able to maintain the warmth in her voice that told me she might have understood what I was going through.

It felt great to be understood. Both my mother and Luke had felt despair and disaster in their lives, which was exactly what I was experiencing.

It was different to talk to them about these things because they had familiarity in knowing how to surpass their obstacles – they did it every day being parents. I guessed that was why I wanted to talk to them, instead of Simon. I always felt like I was bringing Simon down when I brought him into my problems, contrary to the way Luke and Jocelyn helped me react to my problems, in an uplifting manner. They didn't get dragged down into it, like I let Simon.

That was also why I came, I reminded myself. If I talked it through with my parents, it would mean that I didn't have to put much stress on Simon. He seemed like he was fitting in at The Institute better than I was and I wanted to be happy for him. He didn't need to re-live high school, standing by me through the bullying when he could have found friends that saw less confrontation. I guess that was why it was great he had his video game friends, so that he could stay out of the drama that seemed to magnetize to me.

Luke and I rose from the table and cleaned our dishes in the sink, before waving goodbye to Jocelyn. Before we left for the bookstore, she put a hand on my shoulder and stopped me at the door. "Sweetie, I have a dress consultation tonight. I would love it if you came with me." She smiled tenderly, something that melted away any pain or misfortune I experienced earlier today.

Things couldn't have gotten much better, I decided.

"Of course, mom. Love you."

We hugged quickly, not holding it for long. With Jocelyn, the effects of a hug were much more muted than with Luke, but I could tell she was willing to make changes in her behaviors if I needed the warmth of her motherly touch. And I did, especially today.

"Love you," she repeated, as Luke took my hand and led me out the door and out to the car.

I smiled at him as we got in his car and he started to drive to the bookstore. It wasn't too often that I got alone time with him. Over the summer I would sometimes stop into his bookstore just to see him, since often I was at home painting with my mom or working at a part-time job to afford my car for college.

I felt a child-like excitement building within my body at the realization that I could spend the next few hours in Luke's bookstore. Granted, I was there to help him work, but I was almost positive he wouldn't mind if I opened a few books and scanned the pages. I could imagine myself and Luke finding funny passages and reading them out loud to each other, laughing and melting away any worries.

Eagerness burned hotter in my body as we neared the bookstore.

We arrived and he unlocked the gate at the front, opening the front door and holding it for me. I nodded thanks and stepped inside, the smell of old books hitting my senses. It should have been a disgusting smell, should have reeked, except I found it to be very tranquilizing. Old book smell was the best, when it meant that I could lose myself in a different world. Books were great for that, especially on a day like today when all I wanted to do was forget my own troubles.

Luke began humming as he used box-cutters to open boxes of books that had recently shipped to his store. I wandered for a while, familiarizing myself with the selections, before I started unpacking books and placing them in their proper category. Meanwhile, I found myself humming along with the song Luke was singing – it was a Michael Bublé song.

Suddenly, Luke began singing, his low voice rough but easy, caressing the notes, the tune captivating. I joined Luke singing, knowing I wasn't the best, but allowing myself to feel consumed by the lyrics.

"'Cause you are not alone

I'm always there with you

And we'll get lost together

'Til the light comes pouring through

'Cause when you feel like you're done

And the darkness has won

Babe, you're not lost

When your world's crashing down

And you can't bear the thought

I said, babe, you're not lost"

The tune of the song put my body at ease, as well as the way it felt to just sing away my troubles with Luke. I was finally safe and secure, in a place that felt familiar to me, with someone here to protect me from monsters or demons that might jump out of nowhere.

With Simon on campus, there was always the risk that Jace or his minions would show up and put me down, making me think I wasn't deserving of a true college experience. But they couldn't do that here.

I wished Simon could be here with me, experiencing the safety of Luke's bookstore.

Hours went by like that, though it only felt like minutes. Once we had finally finished unpacking the books and working around the shop, there was nothing left to do.

Our sing-along had been all over the place throughout the past few hours, including catchy tunes from Blake Shelton all the way to more upbeat songs from Simple Plan. We ended with Taylor Swift, an artist Luke never cared for but was still aware of. I wasn't particularly a fan either, but Simon of all people was. Sometimes I thought it was just because he found her attractive so I usually teased him about it. Her songs were really catchy though.

I was giggling and smiling by the time we left, my emotions straightening out to be what they usually were. Outside of high school and its torments, I was habitually a genuinely happy person, especially when I was with my family or Simon. These people reminded me that I was only human and I could make errors and they would still love me for my flaws, rather than in spite of them.

For the second time today, I felt genuine bliss. I counted my playful banter with Simon over lunch to be the first time I felt happiness today, but even then I was constantly being punctured by the ever-consuming presence of Jace.

Now, I had nearly forgotten about him, except to remind myself that I was happy without him – though I supposed was essentially contradicting. If I had to remind myself that I was happy because I was without Jace's presence, wasn't I still finding happiness due to Jace? Or, rather, lack of Jace? It still meant I was thinking about him, though.

This revelation was unsettling.

Luke seemed to notice my body stiffen as we were driving through the streets of Alicante after departing from the bookstore. Traffic was relatively jammed as we were on our way toward Jocelyn's fitting, where he would drop me. The groom couldn't see the dress, of course.

He reached over and took my hand, squeezing it. I had never noticed how much Luke or Simon had taken my hand to reassure me before, but now I seemed to be realizing it was something they did a lot.

I was weak.

"Luke," I said, suddenly adamant in the idea that I needed to express this concern. "Why is it that you are so open and free with yourself, and even though I grew up around you, I'm not?"

He looked at me, startled. We were at a red light. "Clary, what gave you the notion that you aren't any of those things?"

I frowned, recalling all the events from today and yesterday involving a certain person I was almost positive I could hate with a passion. I thought passion was supposed to be a positive emotion, not something negative.

"I only am when I'm around you or mom or Simon."

He shook his head. "You're only limiting yourself to believing it's just us. You have the ability to open up to other people if you just let yourself."

He smiled lovingly, making the tingling sensation in my stomach that was starting to form begin to vanish almost as instantly as I noticed it was there.

"It's really hard to fit in at The Institute," I admitted with reluctance.

I knew no parent or soon-to-be parent wanted to hear this from their child, but Luke's relationship with me was much more open and friendly, compared to my mom's relationship with me. She acted more like a parent that was interested in my problems, but Luke was more of a friend figure who could give me advice and understand the situation, almost as much as Simon could.

Luke was special; he was both a friend and a parent at the same time –like a combined version of Jocelyn's parental love and Simon's friendly understanding.

I felt less guilty now coming to Luke and avoiding Simon. I needed family to remind me that I grew up and was raised by strong people who are providing me with opportunities. No Jace Wayland should ruin that for me.

"What is it that's giving you trouble?" he asked, his parental instincts kicking in. He had known me almost my whole life and had become engaged with my mom when I was old enough to understand that I could love Luke as more than just mommy's friend, but as a father figure, which I lacked since my real father left me. I was indebted to Luke.

"A boy," I muttered.

He seemed to understand. "Is it that boy that bullied you in high school?"

I nodded, unable to speak. He, like Simon, had me pegged. It seemed like a bad sign that so many people could guess that about me without actually knowing what happened. Either that or it was a good sign that I surrounded myself with such positive influences in my life; people who cared about me enough to know what I was thinking or feeling.

"Clary," he said, his voice low and careful. He was about to launch into one of his speeches. "I'm sure Simon has already told you a lot of this, but you can't just let that boy walk over you for the rest of your life. You are a brave and strong individual. You just don't give yourself enough credit."

Someone honked behind us and Luke's eyes flickered back to the road, as he drove under the green light.

When we continued down the road to a less trafficked area, he turned to me again. "Like you said, you grew up around me and Jocelyn and saw our struggles and difficulties. We have tried very hard to create a great example for you. And Clary, all you have to do is dig within to find the confidence to stand up for yourself. It's in there – I put it there myself."

I smiled up at him thankfully. His words sunk in, but I knew their effect would be delayed until I could fully process and consider implementing them.

Maybe he was right. Even so, it wasn't going to be a simple task to just up and change the part of myself that preferred to remain withdrawn to pull less attention to myself.

The rest of the car ride was silent, however comfortably so. We finally arrived at the bridal studio after a while and I paused to look at Luke, whose expression was filled with concern.

"I'll get through this, thanks to you," I assured him, however I wasn't sure how true my words were. I leaned over and kissed his cheek, before exiting the car.

He waved goodbye, knowing that after spending some time with my mother, I would be back to school and it would likely be weeks before I'd see him next.

I tried to create a mental drawing in my head of Luke as he was driving off. His typical disheveled hair and fatherly concerned expression; his gentle paper-cut hands from working at the bookstore that felt rough when I held them; he had such a laid-back attitude and yet he always seemed to know the right words to say to make me feel at ease, at least for the time being. I would miss his hugs the most.

After watching him drive off into the distance, I turned to the bridal studio and walked in, searching the room for my mother, but coming up short. A tall sales associate with a form-fitting black dress and red pumps greeted me, likely assuming I was a bride-to-be.

"Welcome! Are you Jocelyn, our late appointment?" she asked. Her voice was too perky and prim, an annoyance to my ears.

I shook my head. "That's my mother. She'll be here soon-"

As I was finishing speaking, Jocelyn slammed through the front door, her hair falling out of the bun it was pushed into earlier and her shirt falling off one side of her shoulder, her arms clutching a bag that was threatening to spill its contents. She met my eyes, everything about her tousled.

She reminded me a lot of myself when I let myself feel too distressed about something – I would channel the distress into drawing or writing, in order to tame myself, but in all actuality I was a mess as much as she was. We were both too impulsive and focused on what we were passionate about to sometimes remember to keep up with appearances. I imagined she was too busy painting something that had recently inspired her, causing her to forget the time – and her appointment.

"Clary, dear," she said, pulling me into a hug, again something I wasn't used to. I didn't mind though. "Sorry I'm late." She pulled away and greeted the woman who had mistaken me for my mother. "I was painting something new and I lost track of time! I'm ready now," she said.

The woman started to take Jocelyn towards the back, but Jocelyn stopped, suddenly remembering something.

"Oh!" she said. I walked up to her curiously. "You forgot your sketch pad when you left for college. I brought your bag with all your supplies." She pushed the bag she was holding into my hands, its familiar shape reassuring.

I nodded gratefully. She understood as much as I did that painting for her and drawing to me were both artistic forms of expression that helped us get a hold of ourselves. How I had forgotten the most important part of myself back at home, I wasn't sure. And yet, it seemed to explain some of the reason I felt so lost back at The Institute.

Jocelyn continued toward the back of the store, following the sales associate with the high-pitched shriek of a voice. I waited up front, seating myself at the waiting area where the brides showed their families the options.

Digging into the neutral-colored shoulder bag, I grasped at my drawing notebook and pulled it out, remembering the way it felt to hold it in my hands. Instinctively, I opened to a blank page toward the middle and began to draw random shapes with no order or direction, until it transformed and transfixed itself into something organized.

The drawing turned out to be Lake Lyn, which overlooked Alicante on one side, and there were two wolves in the picture howling at a full moon. Once I realized what it was, I understood why I had drawn it:

Luke had once taken me to the beaches of Lake Lyn, despite its toxic waters and the fact that we couldn't swim in it. We sat on the edge of the water, watching it rippling under a full-lit moon. Luke had howled, pretending to be a wolf, and I joined in, without a care in the world.

This memory was when he asked me if he could marry my mother; I was just a child comprehending the idea that I would have a father that wasn't biological. I realized that night I could love him just the same.

The reason I drew this was the nagging feeling I felt in my subconscious, ever since I walked into my room to find Isabelle, Jace and Alec. The beauty of Lake Lyn represented the part of me who was open and care-free, a version of myself that would never let herself or anyone she loved get pushed around.

I stared at the wolves in the picture, my finger tracing them.

The image felt like an explanation of my life. Lake Lyn was toxic due to dumping which caused chemicals to rise to dangerous levels. While the Lake was beautiful on the outside, to the touch it was hazardous. The toxicity of the lake represented the toxic part of my life that felt like a ripple-effect of events I couldn't control. And there I was, howling at the moon with a companion that I grew to love and care for.

The toxicity of Lake Lyn was Jace, I was almost sure of it. I could never control Jace or what he did to me; I could only howl at the moon – or just get past the fact that despite the beauty of the lake, it was a toxic being. All I needed to do was get past its mesmerizing effect to recognize that it was destructive and I shouldn't touch the waters.

As fascinating as Jace was on the outside, his being was toxic and destructive. I needed to howl at the moon.

I wondered for a moment what that meant until I realized howling at the moon could mean chewing Jace out for all the things he had done. Maybe howling stood in for shouting and giving him a piece of my mind. Whatever it meant, I understood that it represented standing up for myself, as both Simon and Luke had told me I needed to do.

Could it really be that easy?

* * *

**So this weekend I definitely wrote like four or five new chapters that finally linked to chapters later on that I had already written. I am SO excited for this story, I went on a writing spree and I now have up until Chapter 15 drafted :) I like to edit things a lot though, so that is why I am still trying to stick to my Monday / Friday schedule. Key word trying.**

**I just got too excited to post this a day early and I couldn't help myself! It's about to get REALLY good. So maybe this week you can expect extra updates if I get some more reviews :) The more excited you guys get about this, the more excited I get and the more I will update!**

**Thank you so very much for the amazing reviews. As I said, Clary will learn to stand up for herself very soon! Also, to answer a few questions: yes, there is Sizzy in this story, there will eventually be a Jace POV, and we will also see some Sebastian shenanigans. Jonathan will also appear, as a separate entity from Sebastian. I will be using it his split personality to my advantage here :) Also, you guys can expect some Malec later on ;)**

**Thanks again and enjoy!**

**-M**


	5. The Definition of Fun

Dumpster Diving, Chapter Five: The Definition of Fun

* * *

I waved goodbye to Jocelyn, telling her to say goodbye to Luke again. She nodded and kissed my forehead. "I love you, Clary. Be strong." I nodded and drove off, catching sight of Jocelyn in my rear-view mirror as I drove towards Idris.

I was on my way back to The Institute, after a much-needed Jace detox. I came back with a more leveled head, prepared to change – or at the very least start a ripple effect that could change the way Jace and I interacted. Certainly I wasn't going to have enough strength to just stand up to him the moment I got back, but I knew that I would get to that point when I was ready, and that itself was comforting.

On the way back to Idris, I blindly pulled out my phone and hit my speed dial for Simon. He answered, somewhat incoherently, and I could hear noises that sounded like death and destruction in the background.

"Hey Clary, how are-…I NEED A HEAL, TANK DIED AND I HAVE AGGRO!" I heard other voices in the background, most likely Simon's band friends Eric, Matt and Kirk that he spoke to through his gaming headphones. After a few more shouts, I assumed the battle was over, because Simon's voice was clearer. "Sorry, Clary. We were in a boss fight and Eric apparently had a flash of inspiration for a poem mid-fight and he stopped healing our tank Matt so that he could write it down, so then I had all the aggro and-"

"Yeah as many times as you try to explain World of Warcraft to me, I may never understand it, sorry Simon."

I heard laughing on the other end of the phone, which caused my lips to turn up in a smile. His laugh was so care-free and enlightening.

"So are you almost back to campus?" he asked. I wondered how he had known I left since I never told him. "Luke texted me and wanted me to go see you when you got back so I could teach you some of my battle stances if you ever need to teach that Jace Wayland a lesson!" He chuckled, and then corrected himself. "Well, that was just something I want to do. Luke just wants me to make sure you're okay."

I tried to smile, but it felt somewhat forced. I was realizing that the closer and closer to campus I got, the more the nerves in my stomach were clustering uncomfortably.

"You can show me all your combat moves if you want, but chances are I'll just somehow injure myself or look like a flailing fish out of water." I paused. "Simon, I really would love to hang out with you tonight. It sounds like the perfect confidence boost."

He didn't miss a beat in the conversation. "I love you, Clary. I'm here for you."

"Love you too, Simon. I'll meet you at your room in a half hour?"

"No no, I'll come to you! You need to start feeling comfortable in your own room, you know." Though his words were meant to be supportive and comforting, I felt somewhat betrayed. He was going to try to push me into standing up for myself, when I needed to do that on my own time.

"I'm not sure I'm ready," I admitted.

"No one ever is. You just kind of do what you need to do, whenever it happens." He sounded so sure of himself. "Like earlier today, it was just instinct that caused me to stand up for you. You weren't going to do it so someone had to."

That was the reason I loved Simon. He seemed so intuitive sometimes about the right words that would really speak to me. The idea of having as much confidence as he had when he stood up for me in a dangerous situation made me feel more comfortable with the idea of having to deal with whatever waited for me at my room. Whether Jace or Alec would be there, I wasn't sure, but Isabelle undoubtedly would be.

"Let's see if Isabelle wants to join us," I suggested. "I have some things I want to say to that girl."

Simon went silent, as he waited for me to say more. I didn't, so he finally spoke up. "I guess nothing bad can really come from that. The worst scenario is you unleashing your anger at her, which she does kind of deserve. But it might be displaced, since the anger mostly built up from Jace…" He trailed off, the way he said Jace's name causing him to choke off, in either anger or gloom. I sensed it was anger.

He was right, I admitted, except I felt unable to express my emotions in front of Jace. If I couldn't unleash my anger on him, the next best practice was with Isabelle. She had done just as much as he did, in less dramatic ways. Often her way of torture included teasing my wardrobe, which was unquestionably a step below her level of fashion.

Simon sighed. "It might be good for you. Best case scenario is you guys bond a little."

I thought about this too, but felt it was a long shot. Isabelle Lightwood carefully selected who she associated herself with, aware of how it may tarnish or enhance her reputation. I was a reputation tarnish-er.

I sighed. "I'm going to hang up so I can think a little as I drive. I'll text you when I park at the freshman lots so you can meet me at my place."

He agreed and we ended the call, the rest of the ride feeling uneventful in the aftermath of the conversation we had and the revelations it gave me. Simon was almost always right about things like this, and it almost hurt to realize it in this case; I was so anxious to get the ripple effect of change into motion that I was going to go about it the wrong way.

Jace deserved my full anger, while Isabelle deserved only a toned-down version. Even then, I wasn't sure if I could adequately express myself in front of Isabelle, despite how badly I wanted to do all these things Luke and Simon wanted me to. Standing up for oneself is a journey, not an easily-reached destination. Or so I've heard.

I reached the freshmen parking lot soon enough and parked my car in a tiny space that had been taken over on both sides by lazy parkers. I groaned as I tried to slide out without dinging the car next to me, a fancy sports car.

I wondered why there was a sports car in the freshmen lot, and one parked so terrible at that! It seemed unlikely that anyone should be able to afford such a thing. I wanted to maliciously throw my door open to squeeze out of the tight parking space, but refrained and made it out without dinging the nice car.

I walked around the car to the other side, where a motorcycle was parked practically on the line, making it nearly impossible to get my shoulder bag from the passenger seat. I finally retrieved it with struggle and began to walk to campus, when I stopped in my tracks, staring ahead at a familiar face that was walking toward me.

"Don't you have something better to do than torment me all the time?" I asked Jace, who walked toward me with long strides and purpose.

He smirked as he neared, stopping in front of me only by a few inches. It was intimidating, training my head upward to meet his eyes. We were inches apart, a sudden tension rising between us.

"Oh hey, Dumpster Girl! So nice to see you," he said evenly, his voice tinged with a startling lack of remorse. "Great news, I made the football team. Would you do the honors of cheering for Team Jace, assuming you have any hand-eye coordination and could make it on the cheer team? I'm sure a short peppy little skirt would do you wonders and maybe even land you a couple dates."

I sneered at him, biting my tongue at the obscenities and colorful language I felt like I could conjure up at his provocation.

He noticed my inability to speak and winked. "Oh I see. You're too nervous to speak because you wish you could admit you'd fall head over heels for a date with yours truly." He waved his hands toward his body, which was perfectly chiseled and athletic. I hated how beautiful he looked.

Deciding now was the time to speak up, I chose my words carefully, hoping their effect would startle him. I spoke, attempting to remain far-removed and even, but I ended up sounding breathless and nervous. "If you're trying to get on my good side and win me over, this isn't a way to do it."

He smirked, apparently thrilled to have a response to banter off of. This was exactly why I never wanted to let him see that he affected me – he would just use it as more ammunition and fire something else back at me. Oh how I wished I hadn't listened to Simon and Luke.

"Oh, I already have, judging by the way your eyes swept over my perfect body." He grinned. "You just need to get on my good side. Some advice, my ego likes a good petting." He started to walk toward his motorcycle, but stopped, turning to look at me. "I hope you do try out for the team. Green is your color."

His last words weren't malicious in any sense, which confused me. Why would he comment on our school color of green and tell me it would look good on me? In the context of the situation his compliment seemed out of place.

"Stop doing that," I gritted my teeth. I didn't want to explode, so it took every ounce of my being to avoid saying many more things I wanted so badly to shout at him. "Why do you always have to turn everything around like that?"

He smiled, calm and even. "The answer you request is much too complicated for a mundane mind like yours to appreciate. Have a good evening." He strapped on his motorcycle helmet and started to get onto his bike, but I stomped over to him and gripped his wrist tightly, stopping him.

He stared at me, slightly taken aback by my touch. I had never done anything like this before, I realized. And I never wanted to again.

"Um…" I paused, trying to remember why I spontaneously threw myself at him so angrily to stop him from getting on his motorcycle.

"Are you declaring your love for me?" he asked, eyes turned downwards, towards our hands. I dropped his wrist.

"Never mind," I muttered. The confidence I had spent all evening building up was beginning to wear away.

He shrugged. "Until next time, Dumpster Girl," he said. Then he got in his terribly-parked motorcycle and drove off in the direction of the athletic center.

I grunted with frustration and stomped toward my dorm room, texting Simon as I walked.

When I arrived, Simon was waiting inside the room for me, Isabelle seated next to him on the pink couch. They were mindlessly chatting about something. As soon as Simon saw that I arrived, he jolted up to give me a hug, interrupting his conversation with Isabelle to do so. She seemed irked, but said nothing.

"Clary! So glad you're here. Isabelle and I were just discussing how great you are at drawing." He released me from the hug and ushered me to the couch, between himself and Isabelle. I felt utterly appalled that he was talking me up to Isabelle while I was gone.

Sinking into the couch, I glared at the wall with the TV on it, even though it wasn't on. I didn't dare look at Isabelle. "Oh," I said, seething.

Isabelle pretended not to notice. She was bouncing up in her seat next to me, suddenly thrilled to see me. It was creepy. "You have to teach me how to fashion sketch!" she shrieked. "I like to make a lot of my own clothing but can never get the pictures right when I sketch, and it usually makes the designing process difficult!" She touched my hand, and I jumped up surprised, my eyes finally meeting hers. "Will you?" she asked, begging.

I nodded, mute, unable to do much else.

"Great!" she squealed, releasing her grip on me. "Jace and Alec always tell me I know how to sew better than I know how to cook. They like to joke that they'd rather me sew them clothes and starve than choke down anything I try to make." She giggled to herself.

I wasn't sure how it was funny. "I see where you learned your eloquence from," I muttered, hoping she couldn't hear it.

She did. "Lighten up, it's all in good fun!"

Simon, on the other side of me, stifled a laugh. "Isabelle, do you know what the definition of fun is?"

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, sitting back against the armrest of the couch. "Of course I do! High heels and cute outfits are fun, sewing is fun, cooking is fun. The list goes on." She seemed proud of herself.

I wanted to laugh, but Simon did instead. "I can't see how wielding tiny sharp objects is fun," he said, regarding Isabelle calling sewing fun. Simon's older sister Rebecca always made him wear her own homemade clothes she tried to make, sometimes sewing him into them, so I could understand his disdain for sewing.

Isabelle didn't seem too concerned about Simon and me ganging up on her. In fact, she brushed it all off as if it didn't affect her. She had tough skin, I realized. Maybe that came as a side-effect of growing up being the only girl, with her older brother Alec, a sophomore, and Jace, the king of torturous methods.

I had to give her props for dealing with them, because I didn't know if I would ever be able to handle siblings like that – or siblings at all. I was an only child. It must have been different for Isabelle having more than one sibling. At least in Simon's case he grew very close to his sister because she was sometimes all he had. Maybe Jace and Alec had ganged up on Isabelle because they were like Simon and Rebecca, the close siblings.

I instantly felt bad for judging Isabelle to be the root of any problem. She was probably wired the way that she was because of her status on the totem pole in her family.

With this revelation in mind, I touched Isabelle's knee and looked at her, trying to form a smile. She mirrored my expression and touched my hand, squeezing it. "We will be such great friends, I think." She smiled widely and I wondered if she had really meant it.

I decided not to question her words. I looked over at Simon for approval and he nodded. Turning back to Isabelle, I returned the squeeze to her hand. "I hope," I said, unsure if I meant it or not either.

We released hands and the conversation picked up, sometimes including Simon and sometimes not. He seemed to be content listening and watching Isabelle and I interacting in our first roommate-bonding session.

Occasionally I watched him, noting that he often tended to stare too closely at Isabelle, as if sizing her up. I couldn't blame him – he was a male and men seemed genetically programmed to fall for girls like Isabelle: tall, with long, dark straightened hair, a fashion sense and a positive attitude.

I felt exactly opposite everything Isabelle was: short and stumpy, long curly red hair that stood out too much, no fashion sense and an angry, stubborn energy.

Being around Isabelle was almost like a constant reminder that I didn't measure up to the standards that a lot of guys set for girls they wanted to chase. I was just that short angry red-head that had a constantly grouchy attitude and inability to express herself.

Without excusing myself, I darted out of the living room, slamming my bedroom door shut. I heard Isabelle ask Simon what happened – since they were in the middle of talking when I left – hoping she wasn't what caused me to run away. I tuned out their voices, uncaring. This was the first time I could shut myself in my room and fume to myself.

I snatched up my pillow and threw my face in it, screaming obscenities that I wished I could have shouted at Jace or Isabelle. There was a knock at my door, partway through my screaming. I told them to go away, and it seemed like they did.

Later, when I was tired of yelling into my pillow, I got a text from Simon: _Isabelle is genuinely concerned about you. Go talk to her when you're ready. I left. Hope you feel better. Want me to walk you to your class tomorrow?_

I replied hastily, guilty for stomping away from Simon for a second time today. _No to Isabelle, yes to a walk to class._ I knew Simon didn't have early classes like I did, but I felt no remorse in accepting his offer.

Tomorrow, when I would wake with an even more level head than today, I would be in better shape to apologize to Simon about my behavior today. Right now, I felt unable to do so.

Simon didn't reply and I didn't send another text. Our conversations sometimes just dropped off and it never really made a difference because it always felt final after a certain point in the conversation anyway. We were so used to talking to each other all the time that it didn't matter if we broke off the conversation mid-sentence even, because we'd hear from each other soon enough.

I enjoyed that sense of ease, appreciating that it meant there was no pressure in our relationship. Simon's friendship meant everything to me in a time like this, when I felt pressured to act certain ways to be socially acceptable.

I just wished I could get past all the high school drama and actually focus on college principles.

Never thought I'd say that…

* * *

**This was quite the necessary filler. Do I sense a little Sizzy starting up in here? Oh baby! ;) **

**Next chapter we meet Magnus and Jonathan a little! Also, you can expect some unexpected events occurring within the next two chapters...regarding Simon of all people. Yikes, nothing will prepare you for this little white lie ;) Simon should join Pretty Little Liars. That is all I'm going to say!**

**THANK YOU my wonderful reviewers, followers and those who favorite. I am so excited to get such a positive reception! Which is obviously why I am here updating again for the second time this week! **

**P.S. Clary does stand up for herself, I promise. It's only a little bit as of right now because it's more realistic that way... but in T-minus 2 chapters Jace will feel the wholehearted wrath that is Clary! ;D Be there or you're a square.**

**-M**


	6. Endangered Species

Dumpster Diving, Chapter 06: Endangered Species

* * *

I hadn't realized that having Simon over Tuesday morning would cause such a commotion. I walked out of my individual room to see Isabelle holding Jace back with all her strength, away from Simon, who was aggressively waving a fist at Jace but intelligently keeping his distance.

I threw my backpack off my shoulder and ran to Simon, throwing my arms around him in a hug, hoping it would be enough to calm him down.

He pushed me off, trying to close the distance to Jace. Isabelle began to struggle holding her brother back. When I realized how much Jace had really set Simon off, I threw all my energy into holding him back. I didn't usually have a lot of energy to expend the morning, so using it all here meant my day would only go downhill from here.

_Happy second day of school, Clary. Enjoy it. _It was clear I wouldn't enjoy my second day.

Jace broke free from Isabelle's grasp and got in Simon's face. I pushed my body in-between them, my arms outstretched, pushing against Jace's chest with my hands, unable to do much but trying my hardest to. He kept getting closer and closer, the space between us dwindling as he tried to smack Simon from behind me.

"Back off!" I shrieked. Simon tried reaching around me to push Jace backward, but Isabelle was intervening, gripping his wrist hard, preventing him from laying a hand on her brother.

I glared at Isabelle, worried she was hurting Simon, somehow the look in her eyes telling me that she held no grudges for me walking out on her and Simon last night.

She and I worked together the best that we could to calm the boys down. It took some time, and finally I had pried Simon out of the room.

"Come on, Simon… what was that?" I asked, exasperated, all of my energy successfully drained. His behavior lately was unsettling.

We started walking toward my class. _So much for an uneventful Tuesday._ Things around here never seemed to be easygoing; I despised it.

"Jace was there when I walked in. He picked a fight. Apparently he knows that speaking terribly dirty things about you would piss me off. I just let loose on him." He laughed, evidently unconcerned about the situation and its consequences. "You should try it sometime, it's really rather fun."

"Fun?" I asked, pointedly exaggerating the word. "Do not ever do that again! Jace is toxic!" Lake Lyn kind of toxic, I reminded myself.

He shrugged. "Jace needed someone to finally stomp their foot down and give it to him. No one ever fights back, so he always wins. He deserved to be de-throned."

"And you thought that physically fighting someone with twice as much body muscle as you have is the way to de-throne him?" I stared in disbelief at Simon as we walked.

Today his shirt read: _I got out of bed for this?_ Once again, its accuracy seemed to startle me. I wondered if he specifically picked this shirt out because he was irritated he had to wake up three hours before he had class to walk me to mine. I'm sure the situation with Jace this morning didn't help the mood either.

"Relax," he assured me. "I'll behave next time, since next time he's sure to have backup. It's not every day you get to throw a fist at Jace Wayland when he's unprotected by minions. The idiot had it coming."

My eyes bugged out in shock. "You punched him!? Simon!"

He laughed. "Threatened to," he admitted. I couldn't imagine him punching anyone.

Then I remembered the expression he had on his face this morning, when he was aggressively swinging his hands around, eyes spitting out flames and smoke blasting from his ears. Hypothetically, he was detonating, until I finally caught him and dragged him out of the toxic room. He still seemed ready to blow a gasket.

Unable to believe my ears, I chose to try to avoid the topic. I didn't want to believe any of this was happening. Unfortunately Simon persistently spoke about it the whole walk to my class.

"You should have heard what he was saying about you; something about a short skirt and cheering for Team Jace. I told him not to fantasize about someone he can't have and he just blew up. So I blew up back in his face."

"I get it," I mumbled. "It was an explosion of raw emotion and early-morning restlessness. Please never do it again, though."

He shook his head. "He deserves it though. He's an annoying jock that never grew up when he left High School. We're in college now, he needed someone to throw that in his face."

As much as I agreed, I didn't think I ever wanted to see either Simon or Jace acting like they had this morning. Each of them looked equally angry. Simon was fuming, showing undeniable strength that I had never noticed before. Jace, meanwhile was a muscular guy who knew his strengths, and he had seemed ready to initiate using them.

I had pushed myself in-between them both during the fight, feeling squished between their weights. My arms were pushing against Jace's chest and Isabelle's hands were clasping over Simon's to prevent him from punching Jace.

I hadn't even thought about how Jace and I were chest to chest, as he inched closer, with the intention of getting closer to Simon. Thinking about it made me nervous. I never wanted to be in that situation again. It brought out too many emotions I never wanted to feel at 7:30 AM.

When we reached my classroom, Simon and I stood outside talking until it came time for me to go inside. I hoped Jace wouldn't show up too early, because Simon was still with me.

Of course, worst case scenario. Jace showed up, his face red-hot with anger when he met Simon's eyes. The gold flecks of his eyes barely flickered over to me, before they set back on Simon, golden fire rising within.

"I understand I am attractive, but you repulse me," Jace said, directing it at Simon.

Alec and Isabelle flanked their brother, both evidently ready to catch him if he happened to lunge forward toward Simon. I stood on my toes, in case I needed to intervene too, except I wasn't sure how much I could do. When Simon and Jace were squishing me between each other, I had failed pretty badly at keeping them separated.

Simon guffawed, his glasses falling forward on his noes as he eyed Jace from above them.

"You owe Clary an apology for the way you spoke about her," Simon demanded. Jace scoffed, earning an angry glare from Simon. "You should probably grow up and apologize," he repeated. "Now." His voice didn't tremble.

I looked at him in awe, surprised that these were his choice words in speaking to Jace, where it was all about choosing your words wisely. Nothing to Jace went unnoticed – he never missed a beat.

Jace tilted his head, eyeing me. It set Simon off again.

Alec lunged forward, catching Simon in his grasp. Simon, annoyed to be held back by Alec, thrashed in to get away. My jaw dropped a little more, as I watched Alec attempting to calm Simon down. At least Alec and Isabelle cared enough about their brother that they were here to help contain Simon, since I couldn't do it myself.

When my eyes returned to Jace after gazing over the situation, I realized he was still staring at me. I stepped toward him, closing the distance, pointedly pulling my hands into fists, the infuriation I had at how he set Simon off making my blood boil.

"Stop," I demanded.

Jace winked at me. "Simon is clearly just jealous he pales in comparison to myself, whom you are clearly attracted to."

Taken aback by his annoying chatter, I glared at him harder, imagining my gaze burning his skin.

From the corner of my eye I saw Isabelle standing on her guard, prepared to pull me from Jace. I put a hand up, signaling I wouldn't hurt her brother. She relaxed slightly, watching over Alec working on calming Simon.

Turning my attention back to Jace, I noticed him looking up and down my body. It sent a shiver up my spine.

"Why don't you tell your pit-bull to stand down?" he suggested, referring to Simon.

"Stop provoking him!" I shouted at him, scared by the intensity in my voice. Evidently all it took for my anger to begin seeping out of my barricades was for Jace to attack Simon.

Jace lifted his hand and touched my face, the touch alarmingly gentle and electric. Did he feel that too?

Shaking my head, I pushed his hand away. I gritted my teeth and used the rest of my strength for the day to tell him off. "Listen, I might not be the most confident girl you will ever meet, but if you keep tormenting my friend, you will see just how strong and brave that I am. So I suggest you stop."

If I was alarmed at my own words, Jace was ten times as startled. Something flashed in his eyes when he saw that for the first time, I was willing to spit words back at him, instead of biting them back as I always did. I could have included much more colorful language in telling him off, as I wished I had. It felt more sophisticated, however, to have told him off so eloquently.

"Well," he huffed, his chest rising and falling evenly. "Being so perfect can be so exhausting. I suppose everyone has their moments." With that, he walked through the door of the classroom, Isabelle following at his departure but following as if she had no other choice. When they were gone, I turned to Alec and Simon.

Simon was staring wide-eyed at me, no longer thrashing in Alec's grasp. Alec stared at me too, nodding his head in approval. He had never tormented me before, just had been there and hadn't stopped it. He seemed to have grown up at college – that makes one person, I guess.

"Even though Jace had something to say in response, I could tell you caught him slightly off guard," Alec said, with lightness in his voice. It didn't appear as if he particularly liked me for causing all the drama, but I could have said the same to him.

"Thanks for helping," I said, deciding to pick my battles. Alec hadn't seemed like he was ready to jump at my throat like Jace might have been, so the danger didn't seem immediately important. Just like with Isabelle, I noticed he seemed to be warming up to the idea that I was constantly around, though never by choice.

He nodded his head in approval, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he did, and I noticed with a gasp as I saw how blue his eyes were. He walked into the classroom, my eyes following him as he went, gawking.

Simon's hand touched my face where Jace had touched me and I jumped slightly. We met eyes for a moment, before he pulled me into a hug. "If they give you any trouble, call me," he mumbled, into my ear.

"That is probably the last thing I would do, considering it might make you an endangered species," I mumbled in return. He just laughed. "Simon, you just saw what I did. I think I can handle it from here."

Maybe it wasn't the perfect timing to find some of my confidence, but at least I had found it. Evidently just admitting out loud to Jace of all people that I wasn't confident made me feel better about my ability to tell him off. At least I wasn't in denial – that was what mattered.

Simon squeezed my hand, before walking off. "I believe in you, Clary Fray," he said, as he waved.

I ducked into the classroom, noticing the only empty seat was next to Isabelle rather than Jace. Jace was seated between Isabelle and Alec, as they had walked beside him this morning. I wondered what had changed, since Jace had gone out of his way on the first day of classes to sit by me. I quickly dismissed the thought and sat quietly next to Isabelle, happy to be free of the annoyance that is Jace.

She looked up at me and smiled, evidently impressed with how far I had come. It seemed ironic to get such a response from her of all people; she had teased me plenty in the past. Now, we seemed to have a decent relationship, or at least one that could improve to some extent.

In the beginning of class, Professor Morgenstern assigned a six-page paper due tomorrow, cuing a simultaneous groan from the entirety of the class. I didn't feel too worried about it, knowing English was one of my favorite and best subjects. However, next to me I felt negative energy form Isabelle, Jace and Alec. I wanted to laugh, but withheld it.

The rest of my Tuesday classes went by uneventfully. On Tuesdays I only had two classes, which was a positive. English seemed to dance by quickly, however boring, and then Jace, Isabelle and I broke off from Alec and walked in silence to our Biology lab, where we were met with a droning professor.

After class was done for the day, Isabelle and I walked back to our room to drop our bags, and then we walked in silence to the dining hall, where we split off – Isabelle going to meet her brothers and their friends at a group table, and myself waiting for Simon to arrive.

I waited outside for about ten minutes until I finally decided to just go into the dining hall to get food, my stomach growling in anticipation. I ordered from Southern Kitchen, excited for some comfort food consisting of mashed potatoes and corn with chicken strips.

As I waited, I swiftly sent a text to Simon, notifying him that I was inside ordering. He didn't respond.

I picked a table toward the side of the cafeteria, not too far from the table of people I often found myself curiously thinking about today. Isabelle met my eye from across the distance, mouthing a question. It was hard to tell what she was saying, since I didn't know her as well as someone like Simon, who I could lip-read professionally.

Then she waved her hands frantically, urging me to join their table. When I shook my head, she stood, stole a chair from a neighboring empty table, and scooted it to the end of their table, pointing at it, glaring at me sharply. Feeling pressured to follow orders, I walked timidly toward the daunting table of minions, with a few unfamiliar faces that weren't there yesterday, as well as the core group of Isabelle, Jace, Alec and Sebastian.

Isabelle patted the seat and I sat, staring agape at the faces, all trained on me. Except for Jace. He was poking at his mashed potatoes.

"This is Clary," she announced to the unfamiliar faces. "Clary, this is Magnus Bane, Alec's roommate," she pointed to an astoundingly attractive male seated next to Alec.

Magnus had a sense of fashion that rivaled Isabelle's. His hair was coated with glitter and he reminded me of a male faerie or some other type of sparkly creature.

"Next to Jace is Jonathan, his roommate."

She pointed to a slender guy, with blonde-white hair and a face that could compete with Jace's beauty. _About time someone rivaled Jace's good looks_, I thought.

Magnus and Jonathan both waved at me and I timidly smiled back, before turning my attention to my food, pushing around the mashed potatoes on my plate. Suddenly I felt like I wasn't hungry anymore.

When I looked up, Jonathan was staring at me, his eyes penetrating the depths of my soul. It was uncomfortable. To avoid the bizarre feelings I was getting from Jonathan, I turned my attention to Jace, who was going out of his way to avoid looking at me. I sighed.

Isabelle began talking to me, telling me about some roommate bonding ideas she had. I half-listened to her, trying to listen at the same time to Jace, when he began to converse with Jonathan. It was about football, from what I guessed.

Finally, I felt a vibrating in my pocket. "One second," I said to Isabelle, retrieving my phone.

"Is it Simon?" she asked curiously, peering at my phone over my shoulder.

It was. It said: _I'm not coming. _

Isabelle must have seen it, because she started reassuring me. "I'm sure it's nothing, Clary!"

I looked up at her, confused as to why we were suddenly acting like we were the best of friends when we weren't. We were just two people who were pushed together in a room and forced to make civil interaction, after years of high school torment. It had caused too much drama living with Isabelle, within my own friend group consisting of Simon and her brother Jace, who was constantly waltzing in and out of my life.

I suddenly felt isolated from the table, when Isabelle joined in the conversation about football, something about a game coming up. I was alone, surrounded by people I didn't like and probably never would. The one person I wanted to see wasn't coming and wasn't intending on telling me why. Alienated definitely described the feeling.

"Clary, you should join!" Isabelle said, excitedly. When I met her eyes, I noticed the rest of the table had quieted and was waiting for my response.

"Uh, join what?" I asked, unsure if I wanted to know or not. I hadn't been listening, admittedly.

"The preparations for the midnight football game! Guys against girls!" Isabelle said quickly in response, her voice perky as ever.

At Isabelle's comment, Jace looked up, peering at me through blank golden eyes. "Isabelle, Clary likely knows nothing about football," he commented, appearing bored.

I felt offended at his assumption, even though the fact of the matter was that that he was true. His annoying overconfidence couldn't be rivaled this time.

"I don't," I admitted.

"We'll teach you," someone said. I looked around to see whose voice it was, discovering that it was Magnus. "I am sure you will learn and surpass my own skill level, with flying colors!" He spoke with such conviction, but it had a flamboyant edge to it that surprised me.

I pursed my lips and began to play with my hair, nervously. "Why is there a midnight game?" I asked.

"It's a homecoming tradition," Alec explained. He was a sophomore, the oldest in the group I assumed. "We have a week-long guys verses girls battle that starts with the midnight football game. It helps decide who gets the upper edge for the water fight at the end of the week."

I stared at him, confused.

Jace was the next one who spoke, his eyes piercing directly into mine. I couldn't avoid the uncomfortable feeling it gave me, as if I was missing something.

"The midnight football game is essentially just a normal game, played at midnight." He snickered, but continued. "If the guys win the game, the girls have to wear white shirts and bikinis of the guys' choosing for the water fight, which happens later in the week." Jace seemed pleased with the idea.

"And if the girls win?" I asked, my eyebrows rising.

"In the event the girls win, however implausible," Sebastian paused, his voice rude and interrupting the sense of comfort I was trying to create. He continued, "The girls winning would mean the guys have no water for the water fight and the girls would have bazooka-like water guns."

Isabelle giggled at the idea. "So are you in?"

I stared at her, uncomprehending the question. Why was I suddenly being included in something like this? It seemed like I was an unlikely candidate to be invited to an event like this, let alone be a participant. If anything, in high school if events like this happened I would have had to watch on the sidelines or I wouldn't have even been aware of the event. Things like this were for the so-called popular group to decide who had the privilege of joining them. Things really did change at college, however slowly.

Jace eyes flickered again to meet mine and I immediately met his. It seemed like I always had the sixth sense to know when he was looking at me.

He spoke, with an intensity I never knew possible. "If you don't join, I'll personally bring the water fight to you," he threatened.

I sighed. It's past the point-of-no-return now. The group all chimed in, seeming to agree with Jace, believing I should join. I wasn't sure why they had a sudden change of heart, but decided in the moment not to question it. I could always back out later, when I wasn't feeling pressured by their immediate presence.

I nodded my head and everyone cheered. Jace smirked, one eye winking. I pinched myself and decided this wasn't some dream or nightmare. This was my reality. I could click my red converse together as much as I wanted, chanting "There's no place like home", but this was my home now. This place; these people.

Jace and I exchanged another uneasy stare, as I pushed a lock of curled hair behind my ear. Something about the look in his eyes had an unexplainable gentleness to them that took me by surprise.

* * *

**I'm trying to pick up the pace with the story, as most of it has been discovery of the characters. My apologies. Next chapter there's a big twist that might surprise you, so be excited for that. ****At least things seem to be looking up for Clary! For now... Let's try to be positive, shall we? Clary is getting a lot of weird vibes though. Especially Jace - Wonder what he said to Simon that set him off? You should probably start wondering why Simon texted that he couldn't come. Hint hint.**

**Thanks for the amazing reviews, favorites and follows! You all are so wonderful! I appreciate all the support.**

**There was one review that took me by surprise, and I'm sure you know who you are if you're reading this. I would like to note that I include small character interaction in the story to set up later events that I can't yet disclose, or else some of it wouldn't make much sense. I try to write as if people don't know the characters, even though it's Fan Fiction. Also, realism hasn't always been my strong point, I'm a dreamer of a girl myself, so please try to understand that it is just a story and not everything will be perfectly realistic :) ****I took all of your feedback to heart, though. I have already written up to chapter 17 at the time of posting these early chapters, so I can't change all that much. **

**Anyone else who has comments or concerns about plot not adding up, please let me know and I will see what I can do to have it make more sense! Thanks again for the constructive criticism!**

**Sorry for the long end note, but I also need to mention that I probably won't update again this week until my stress is less. My boyfriend and I are in a really bad place, and I have modeling over the weekend and a job orientation. So I am swamped with all that on top of homework. Sorry guys! Enjoy the third update this week :)**

**-M**


	7. Unkempt Revenge Issues

Dumpster Diving, Chapter 07: Unkempt Revenge Issues

* * *

It wasn't until I left the cafeteria and called Simon that I realized he was in trouble. He answered, his voice somehow echoing on the other end of the phone, as if he were in an enclosed space.

"Simon, where are you?" I asked, concerned.

"A dumpster, courtesy of Wayland and Verlac," he said, nonchalant, as if trying not to worry me.

I pulled the phone from my face and stared dumbfounded at it. I had just finished lunch with Isabelle, Jace, Alec, Magnus, Sebastian, and Jonathan. Now that we had split ways, I was discovering that Jace and Sebastian had stuffed Simon into a dumpster beforehand.

It seemed unbelievable. How I hadn't seen this coming, I wasn't sure – I should have known better by now that people like Jace didn't just change overnight. Instantly I felt like the biggest idiot in the world. It was one thing for Jace to be an annoying idiot that needs to grow up, but anyone who falls for that should absolutely be titled a bigger idiot than he ever was. You have got to be kidding me.

"Where? I'm coming to help!"

I started running, unsure where to. I began to look at all the dumpsters, standing on my toes and peering into them to look for Simon. I wasn't sure how I would ever find him.

"By the dining halls," he mumbled into the phone. I heard his voice echo again, inside the dumpster he was in.

I backtracked, sprinting back toward the dining halls that I had just excited, passing Jace and Sebastian, who were casually walking and talking. I stopped in my tracks and spun on my heel to glare at Jace, who turned around as if he sensed I would too.

We caught eyes in a glaring contest, like they do in those old Western films before they pull out their guns. Whoever shoots first won. I needed to do just that.

"How dare you!" I yelled. Anger began to fill my veins, seeping into my words and my expression. I felt the blood rushing through my body, supplying a red-hot sensation of the rage I released, a satisfying warmth.

Jace could sense I meant business, when he braced himself rather than stonewalling with more of his conceited arrogance. His shoulders hunched forward slightly and he stood grounded with his knees bent, in case he needed to jump into action. Apparently I looked like I was about to attack – and instead of pulling a gun like in the Western showdowns, he acted as if I was going to whip out a chainsaw and run at him. It was tempting, really.

He composed his posture slightly as he spoke, in order to intimidate me with his annoying perfection. Usually it worked, but right now I felt too irritated to let him get to me. "Though I am sure whatever you believe I did must have done is brilliant because you are associating it with me, I haven't done anything," he said, in his annoyingly perfect composed mannerism. I could have just slapped him right then and there.

"Stop with your stupid perfection!" I shouted. I felt at the ready to unleash my anger. My angry energy pushed forefront in my body, almost as if it was ready to jump out of me and pummel Jace to the ground. I would enjoy that.

He smirked at his lips and touched his hair, as if emphasizing the fact that I had called him perfection. At that point I felt too fed up with him.

I stepped forward, pointedly enraged, and poked a finger at his chest. Though he towered over me by over half a foot, I felt much taller and bigger than he was, as the size of my anger built itself bigger and bigger in my chest. He must have noticed, because he took a step backwards about an inch.

I closed the instance again and I unleashed.

"Stop thinking you can bend your words and talk yourself out of any situation! They can't talk you out of this one, that's for damn sure. I am past the point of dealing nicely with you because clearly you are an undeserving waste of energy!" I paused to cool my temper, but at this point it was enflaming the more I looked at Jace's face, seeing his emotions mixing. "You're just an insecure person who takes everything out on undeserving people! Well I'm going to tell you one thing. I've suffered years and years of insecurity because of you. And now that I am finally coming to terms with myself, I am seeing that you're the one with all the problems! You; it wasn't me and it never was me. Grow up and get a life, will you?"

He stared at me, a mix of emotions flickering on his face. I saw confusion, infuriation and guilt. Maybe even a little respect if looked closely enough. Good, he should respect me now because I was no longer afraid to tell him how it was.

When I felt satisfied with myself and how I had stunned Jace into silence, I ran off to search for Simon.

There was a lot more I could have said to Jace in that moment, as every angry thought or feeling was at my fingertips waiting to be released on him, but I just didn't have the time when Simon was rotting in a dumpster, courtesy of prince not-so charming. Okay so he was charming, but it wasn't going to get him anywhere in life and I didn't need to bother myself with any of that anymore.

I was so done with Jace Wayland.

I came to a dumpster near the back of the dining hall, where I saw Simon's face peering out of a tiny hole. It was a recycling dumpster, with three holes for cardboard, plastic and aluminum. I stared incredulously at the hole, which seemed unbelievably small.

"How did they get you in there?" I asked in awe, as I stepped forward and touched Simon's cheek. He was frowning and I could feel it.

"The top opens. I can't crawl back out of a hole because they're too small. I need to get out the top." He pointed up at the lid on the top, which looked heavy. There was no way I would be able to do anything about it.

This was like high school all over again, when Jace had lifted me into the dumpster to get my ring and then abandoned me, his crowd of onlookers following, leaving just Simon to help me out. Simon was shorter at the time – his growth spurt came much later than most, and of course mine never came – so I had been stuck until he was able to locate administrative staff. Déjà vu.

I sighed, heaving myself up, trying to reach. I failed, falling to the ground and hitting my tailbone. "Ah!" I shrieked.

"Are you okay?" a voice nearby asked. Not Simon's.

"Who are you?" Simon asked, staring darkly at the stranger behind me.

I looked over my shoulder from my spot on the ground, to see Jonathan from lunch. He was Jace's roommate. I instantly braced myself for tormenting because of his association with Jace, until I realized I was capable of chewing him out if he was here to cause any harm. In order to get the message across that I wasn't afraid of him, I glared hard at him from the pavement.

"Usually someone who needs assistance is less demanding. If it matters so much, I'm Jonathan," he retorted. He never once looked at Simon, his eyes trained on me as I sat in pain on the ground.

Jonathan offered me a hand. I stared at it quizzically, wondering what strings were attached to such a peace offering. In other circumstances I would have gotten up on my own, but this time I took his hand to gauge his reaction and he helped me up. I waited for him to pull a line or push me back onto my tailbone, but he never did. I relaxed, my anger subsiding along with it, at least most of it.

It was wrong of me to think he was harmless – I was sure of it – but he gave me no indication that he was anything like the others in the group in that moment, so I felt like I needed to let myself trust him. At least until Simon was free, and then I'd reconsider.

"Thank you," I said.

He nodded his head, his short blonde hair moving as he did. "I'll hoist you up and you can flip open the lid," he said to me, again not looking at Simon. "Then when you have it open I can give your friend a hand."

Simon glared hard at Jonathan, as he was only a stranger to him. Trust didn't happen easily to him, and I understood why. Simon always watched me put my trust too easily into people and I always got hurt – he had reason to doubt people.

"I have a name, you know," Simon snapped.

"Funny, so do I," Jonathan responded.

I rolled my eyes at the confrontation. I was done with all the high school bullshit. This was college and Simon was in a dumpster. Doesn't anyone ever grow up?

"Just give me a lift," I growled.

Jonathan gripped both his hands at my waist and lifted me with his strength, which appeared to be great. He seemed to have no issues holding me in the air, as I tried to pull on the heavy dumpster lid. When I had finally pulled the lid back, Jonathan set me down gently onto my feet.

I stared up at him curiously. He was tall, like Jace was, but his hair wasn't golden – it was a shimmery white-blonde.

Jonathan pushed Simon backward through the hole, who stumbled back inside the dumpster, away from the hole. Simon groaned. "It's so smelly, I need air," he complained.

"I need to use the hole to stand on so I can give you a lift," Jonathan snapped back at him. "I figured you didn't want to get kicked in the face."

Simon grumbled again but listened. Jonathan jumped up, his hands gripping the top of the dumpster, using his arm strength to pull himself up until he could get his foot in the hole of the dumpster. He stood in the hole and when he found his balance, he leaned over the top, offering Simon a hand. I saw Simon use the same method of getting up by using the hole to stick his feet in, except it took Simon longer to do so.

Jonathan helped Simon climb over the top, clearly unfazed by the energy he was expending to help my friend. He must work out, I decided.

Simon jumped to the ground, landing on his hands and knees with a grunt. I scrambled over to him, kissing his head and apologizing into his curly hair. "Oh Simon, I'm so sorry I didn't find your text weird and come looking for you," I repeated over and over in differing ways.

Jonathan jumped down after flipping the lid back closed on the dumpster. He hit the ground with grace, standing tall and proud, towering over me as I hugged Simon on the ground. I had to remind myself not to glare, since he had just helped out.

"Simon, is it?" Jonathan asked, looking down at my best friend.

He offered me a hand. I took it, as he hoisted me upward. Then he helped Simon, who seemed more reluctant to accept help. He did anyways, probably due to his strength being zapped with impact to the ground. Or hoisting himself up. I pretended to have not noticed their strength differences.

"Thanks," Simon mumbled, almost reluctant. It was clear he didn't want Jonathan here anymore.

"I'll be on my way," Jonathan said, aware of the way Simon looked at him. He turned to me. "If you ever get thrown in a dumpster, you know who to call."

"So you know about my past with dumpsters?" I guessed.

He nodded. "I saw you running across campus and deduced you might be coming to Simon's aid. I heard him shouting for help."

"And you didn't help him before I came?" I asked, suddenly annoyed.

He shrugged. "Not until I knew you were associated with him." And with that, he walked off.

I stared, seething after him. Once he was gone, I turned my complete attention to Simon. I was worried he would be mad at me, but he was quite the opposite.

"Oh, Clary." He hugged me. "Thanks for coming. I didn't want to involve you in this, I'm so sorry."

I shook my head, rubbing his back as we hugged. "No, I'm the one who should be sorry. Isabelle dragged me over to her table at lunch and then you texted saying you weren't coming, and I didn't even question it. I should have."

He patted me on the back, his expression forgiving. "You couldn't have known."

"I'm just surprised Jace wasn't gloating all lunch about throwing you in that dumpster," I said, as we released from a hug.

We began walking toward Simon's dorm so he could clean up. The stench once again reminded me of my own dumpster diving experience.

"I would have thought Jace would be proud of what he did," I said thoughtfully after a moment of silence.

Why hadn't Jace gloated about Simon? I couldn't be sure. This prank was definitely on a different level than any of the other stupid pranks Jace played. He usually did small things with the intention of having it stick in your mind for the rest of eternity, nagging and prodding at your brain to make your life a living hell. Not owning up to a prank seemed counterproductive. I wondered what he could gain from denying this prank.

"Yeah, you'd think," Simon mumbled quietly. He rubbed his neck. "Well, you never know with him. He's dangerous. Don't get too close to him."

I nodded. "Agreed."

I paused, remembering when I had told Jace off, on my way to save Simon. He had been stunned into silence when I had gone off on him full force for the first time. It was enchanting and yet extraordinary to think back on and realize that the fiery little redhead telling Jace off was me.

"I have to tell you something," I said, excited to tell Simon about my feat.

He listened with anticipation as I told him about how I put Jace in his place. He even stopped and hugged me when I finished my story, telling me how proud he was that I stood up for myself 100% and that now there was no going back from this. It was like I was a new woman!

We reached his dorm and I hugged him one last time, before he left to shower off the dumpster stench.

I returned to my own dorm, emotionally drained from the events of today. This semester was sure starting out with a bang. I decided the "freshman 15" rumor of freshmen gaining 15 pounds when entering college seemed fairly accurate, as I was constantly craving comfort food to cope with my wildly stressful college life.

I should have anticipated the worst possible situation of seeing Jace's face when I entered my living room, but I still had not grown used to the fact that he seemed to be around every corner. He was sitting next to Isabelle on the couch, staring expectantly at the door when I came inside, stopping in my tracks in the doorway.

"I thought about what you said," Jace started, standing up to greet me at the door. It felt like more of an intimidating greeting than a friendly one.

I shut the door behind me and stared at him, waiting, my arms crossed over my chest. He had my attention, as he wanted; I was cornered in my own room, as always.

Isabelle quickly excused herself to her individual room, closing the door behind her. It was never closed from what I noticed, so I knew she was giving Jace and me some privacy now. Evidently he needed the power of intimidation from being in a room alone with him in order to scare me into submission.

Well, I wasn't going to let that happen. Not after what he did to Simon.

I stared at his arm, which was placed on the wall beside me. "Can you at least let me sit?" I asked, uncomfortable with him closing me in against the wall. In response, he placed his other hand on the other side of me, effectively pinning me between him and the wall, a small amount of space between us. My eyes narrowed with annoyance.

"I want to know why you said all those things, unprovoked," he said, his voice genuinely curious. I sensed no ulterior motives. It made me even more suspicious and annoyed.

"What are you talking about? You know what you did!"

I was in awe that he was denying his actions. Was he that conceited? Though, I remembered, he wouldn't have denied his actions if he really were conceited about himself. I tilted my head in confusion, the conflicting actions not adding up. He had absolutely nothing to gain denying it. It just didn't make sense.

"As far as I am aware, we were fine at lunch. You agreed to do the midnight football game once I winked at you-"

"Try the truth. You threatened me to join," I interrupted.

He ignored me. "And then suddenly after lunch you were running around frantically. You just went off on me, like you never have before, and it was out of nowhere."

I felt offended. "Are you inferring I didn't have it in me?"

He shook his head, equally irritated with me. "I'm not inferring anything. I probably deserved it, actually; but not then and not for no reason." His eyes peered into my soul and I felt amazed at how deeply he could look into my eyes. He continued speaking, as if this was normal to be so close to each other, eyes met in an undeniably intense exchange – mostly because I was holding my ground this time. "I get that you keep your anger front and center in case you need to use it as a defense system, however I haven't done anything as of recently that would have provoked you to set it free."

"Why do I bother talking to a meat-head like you?" I asked, somewhat to myself.

He smirked. "Well I am cute and available, and you have yet to admit to wanting my body."

I rolled my eyes, infuriated with his constantly conceited nature about his good looks. Yes, he was attractive, but with him commenting on it all the time, I felt somewhat repulsed. Strike that, very repulsed.

"Well I'm hot, and you're bothering me," I retorted, attempting to use his sarcasm against him.

He frowned. "I sincerely thought you were going to say hot and bothered. I genuinely hoped you would have. It might have been an interesting change of events."

He smirked now, the depths of his eyes intensifying. I stared into them, falling into a trance, almost believing for a moment that I could stare at them for hours.

I shook my head, tearing my eyes from his. "In your dreams, Wayland."

"Over and over again," he clarified.

My jaw dropped.

"Kidding," he said. However, his expression was mixed again.

"Do I sense desperation?" I asked, reminding myself that he was pinning me against a wall. "You sure have a charming way of trapping girls into falling for you."

He grinned. "I will take that as a compliment or die trying."

"The latter, please. Burn in hell."

He stared at me, blinking. I met his eyes again, attempting to remain grounded, holding myself back from falling into their golden depths. Once again, I found myself falling into a vertigo of emotions, triggered by the sheer look of his glowing eyes.

_Snap out of it. He just threw your friend in a dumpster, you can't fall for his stupid tricks, _I reminded myself hastily.

"See, that right there," he commented. "You're red hot today. And it's not just due to the color of your hair."

"Had to throw that one in there, didn't you?" I countered.

He nodded, approving my banter. I was getting better at this, I decided. Finally someone was willing to throw his tricks back in his face – I had never thought it would have been me.

I shook my head to remind myself to stay focused. "Listen, the world doesn't revolve around you, and I sure as hell won't. There is no reason for you to corner me like this to ask a question you already know the answer to. So stop with your games. You aren't the center of the universe and I have better things to do. Like that English paper."

I tried to push past him, but he gripped my shoulders with both hands.

"So you're telling me the world doesn't already revolve around me?" he asked, feigning shock.

I growled and ducked under his grip, attempting to make a break for my room. He gripped my arm, stopping me. Sighing, I submitted and turned back to him.

"Be serious if you want any answers out of me," I demanded.

He nodded. It may have been the first time he actually listened to me. It felt good to finally get through to his knucklehead. Who knew that all it took was unleashing the anger built up from four years of prodding.

"So what provoked you?" he asked, all jokes aside. It surprised me that he had actually listened and not made a joke out of it. I waited, still sure there would be a catch.

"Um yeah, remember how you threw Simon in a dumpster before lunch? And then never told me during the hour we spent at that lunch table? Yeah, that would be why."

Rolling my eyes, I avoided looking into his eyes, sure I would transfix too much on them. Instead, I focused on his hands, watching as they curled into balls and then opened. He began to fidget.

I looked up at him, sensing something wrong. "What?" I asked. He never fidgeted. He was always too sure of himself.

He seemed lost for words. "Who told you I threw Simon in a dumpster?"

"Simon, when I fished him out obviously," I said, my voice rising with anger. Again, I forced myself to focus on his hands, as he fidgeted more. I relaxed again, my nose scrunching in confusion as I thought about why he would be fidgeting, something he never did. Nothing was adding up.

He was silent and then out of nowhere he opened his mouth and his words came out in a blur. "I didn't throw Simon in a dumpster," he said.

I peered up at him, searching his face for a joke or sarcastic ending, but it never came. "What are you talking about? Of course you did, Simon told me it was you and Sebastian."

He looked at me, as if looking through me. "I…" he trailed off. "I really didn't."

Something about the way he said the words, whether it was his stuttering or the softness in which he spoke, told me that he was actually telling the truth. It was hard to believe his word over Simon's, but I didn't have much else to go off of. This was a "he said, she said" kind of thing; both Simon and Jace were acting like teenage girls in an immature catfight.

"Jace, I know Simon better than I know anyone. He's always been the kind of friend who will call be and be like 'Hey, I'm outside your house, come outside' and when we'd just sit and talk for hours on my porch." I wasn't sure why I was telling this. Rushing to get to my point, I continued. "I trust him with my life and I've grown up having that trust in him. Meanwhile you are the last person I would ever find myself believing. What makes you think I would have faith in your word over his?"

Startled by my story, he stuttered again, his words tangling in an unorganized mess. "I really… I didn't do it. I promise."

It wasn't hard to tell that he really was speaking the truth. Jace Wayland never says the word promise, he never stutters, and he never looked as disheveled as he did in that moment. Damn it, my leads were dwindling and I was left even more confused now than before.

"Fine," I gritted my teeth. "I believe you, unfortunately. But that doesn't explain why Simon lied. Or why he would throw himself in a dumpster."

Jace shrugged. "That beats me. Maybe he was just trying to re-live old memories."

I punched his arm, which seemed to have more muscle and bone than I expected, because it hurt my hand more than it looked like it hurt him. "Ah!" I shrieked.

He grabbed at my hand, studying it to make sure it wasn't broken, his fingers delicately brushing my skin. He held onto it when he spoke. "You're fine. Maybe next time you might try to not hit like a girl."

I glared.

He smirked again, his signature smirk. "Shall we pay Simon a visit?"

"Why we?" I asked. I retracted my hand, not liking the way the electric energy started to spark as he held it, as he examined my throbbing hand I punched him with.

It was hate, I told myself. I hated him so much that my body felt shockwaves every time we touched. That had to be the reason. If not that, maybe the pain of punching him had deluded me. There was some logical explanation, I was sure of it.

"We, because he has tarnished my name," he said, as if it were the most obvious answer. "Oh and more time spent with you of course."

I couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not. "I'm going to assume sarcasm and pretend you didn't just say that. You're aware I'm to the point that the next sarcastic comment you shoot at me, I'll slap your pretty little face, right?"

I smiled at my newfound inward strength and ability to finally feel able to formulate it into words. Simon had been the main reason I was able to discover this strength, ever since Jace had fought with him this morning, when Isabelle and I had to hold them back from each other. I could never thank Simon enough for helping me realize that Jace wasn't someone to trust, though I had found myself wanting to earlier this week. At least I was now completely unable to; I felt satisfied.

And then it hit me.

"Wait," I said, stopping myself in my thoughts, backtracking.

That was it. Simon and Jace fought this morning – and Simon got a sort of revenge by setting Jace up, never suspecting I'd ever talk to him about it and find out it was a lie.

But there must have been more to it, because Simon would never just throw himself in a dumpster to win. No, there was much more to this. What was it?

Jace stared at me, waiting for me to speak. "Yes, princess?"

"Don't call me that," I shot back almost instantly, not in the mood for games. "I swear I'll smack you."

He offered his cheek. "Plant one on me, I can handle it. Or if you don't want to, I'll accept a kiss."

At the mere mention of a kiss escaping Jace's lips, I felt my heart rate begin to steadily increase. The uncomfortable way I felt around Jace must have been sexual tension, there was no other way to describe it. Regardless of his attractiveness, I had to remind myself that he was a tool and I shouldn't feel any sexual tension.

I thought about his words anyway, despite my brain's warnings. He offered a punch or a kiss, and at times I found myself wanting both.

_Woah! Get that out of your head, Clary. _I shuddered and stuck my tongue out at him, unwilling to do either.

"It just occurred to me that the Simon thing – which you need to focus on by the way – probably has something to do with your fight this morning," I said.

He shrugged. "So the freak has unkempt revenge issues, what about it?"

I heard the way he spoke and thought about how it made me feel. I was seething with anger as usual, which Simon would have wanted. But the way he pinned me against a wall and how I had felt I was falling into my eyes – or even the way he had made me heart flutter when his lips formed the word "kiss" – had made me feel unwarranted emotions. Something Simon wouldn't have wanted.

Something he would have gone to the ends of the Earth to prevent. It was jealousy. Simon thought I was going to fall for Jace and leave him in the dust. That must have been it! Jace and I had been spending too much time together, even though most of it was in banter, but Simon couldn't have known that, and he wouldn't have wanted to lose me to Jace of all people. It all made sense now.

Focusing back on the conversation, I tried to ignore the way Jace spoke about Simon. "I think I know why he did it," I said.

"Enlighten me, angel," he said, sneering. He motioned to the pink couch, inviting me to sit with him. I obliged, for the sake of our common cause.

"I think he lied to get me to side with him. I think he felt worried I'd start siding with you," I explained, unsure if it made any sense to him at all.

He blinked. "Well why would you side with me? Do I sense a love confession on the horizon?"

"I might actually smack you for that one, I haven't decided." I glared at him again, something I did quite often now.

He seemed content with himself. "How about one on the ass? I like it kinky." He pretended to bend over.

I pushed him over on the couch, irritated with his inability to cooperate. He regained his balance and glowered back at me. I should grow used to our exchanges by now. They might never make sense to me and maybe that was why I always found myself questioning my feelings for him – and also why Simon had gone to such drastic measures to remind me what I felt.

_Hate, _I reminded myself. _At least it was mostly hate._

"I don't want to ask him why he did it, even though we already have some assumptions," I finally said.

"Why?" Jace asked, agitated. As if he had meant to ask '_Why would you let him get away with that when I never could?'_

"Even if his reason is to ensure that I never took your side, it worked for and against his cause. Because I did actually stand up to you, but now here I am talking with you about it." I looked at my hands in disbelief. I could deny it all I wanted but I felt something stirring inside of me as I sat next to Jace.

His eyes lit up, his expression amused. "What a change of events," he said, winking. "I'll take that kiss now."

Without second thought I planted a good, firm slap across his face, wiping his smirk straight off.

* * *

**Okay I found a little free time to quick-edit a chapter to post, since they are pre-written up until 17 ish. I've been a little stressed out with homework, modeling fittings and I recently got a job too! Tomorrow I have a runway show annnnd yeah I'm going to be stuck in the building from 9am-9pm, joy! So no updates until Monday. But y'all got 4 out of me this week so that was cool right? :)**

**Your reviews are wonderful and I do appreciate them. Someone told me not to let Jace / Clary give in so easily, and rest assured that it is going to be an uphill battle once the major events come into play. Almost every chapter after this point is going to have a lot of action, so prepare yourselves! Also, Clary gets much better at ripping Jace a new one, now that she knows she has it in her. **

**envelopedinred asked me to respond to their review individually so I can elaborate on some of that. Jace is stubborn and of course he doesn't believe he has any feelings for Clary at this point, so I don't see that happening quite yet ;) He is a boy and that is what boys do, they deny things! (Most boys in my opinion.) The Midnight football game and the table's sudden acceptance does appear peculiar...The answer to that is the biggest plot twist of the story! You have a keen sense for sensing what is going on, though! Thanks for the wonderful review!**

**And to the person who opened up to tell me their story and why they related to how Clary feels, I understand. I went through some of this, too.**

**Any other comments, concerns or questions, feel free to leave them in a review. I will respond if the question is burning. ****P.S. to those that wished me well with my relationship, thank you. It must have helped because things are golden again. ****Life's good.**

**-M**


	8. Pretending

Dumpster Diving, Chapter 08: Pretending

* * *

After slapping Jace, word seemed to have spread through his table of minions, courtesy of Isabelle.

Isabelle cuddled up to me throughout the remainder of the first week, eager to show her appreciation for my newfound confidence. She even started to hang around with Simon and me outside of academic obligations, whenever Simon came to my room to watch TV or talk. Isabelle seemed to have taken a liking to Simon's quirky mannerisms, which intrigued me. I had never considered a girl like her able to understand someone like Simon, especially not like I did, but she seemed willing to try.

In order to keep Simon in the dark about my revelation that he had lied about being dumpster dumped, I kept my distance from Jace outside of class and he kept equal distance from me, but only because I had threatened him into silence.

Jace was starting to understand that going against me would result in more physical abuse, and I felt happy to oblige if he disobeyed my request to keep Simon in the dark. I had hoped Jace agreed to my request because he was still cowering in fear from the smack, but he still went out of his way before or after classes to give me his usual sarcastic quips, so I guessed he was just pretending to play nice only when in front of Simon – which left me suspicious of his intentions. That makes another suspicious person to add to the growing list of names, right below Simon and above Isabelle.

At least Simon seemed proud of me for growing into my own skin. By the time Friday came to end the first week of terror, not much had actually happened other than the new tradition of Simon, Isabelle and I hanging out at our room. I still couldn't get used to that, but I was trying.

As far as classes, I wasn't too concerned; I kept up with the work and tried to focus in class, despite the distractions I sometimes felt that Jace was. He liked to kick me or put things in my hair, reminding me how childish he really was. I felt glad that I was able to retort back to him now. I'd often kick back with more aggression than he showed or draw on his homework with pen in response to his immature quips. It felt more comfortable now to interact with him and put him in his place, however I still had my moments of fear when I remembered who he was and what he was capable of.

With the fear of Jace's dark side usually came irritation, which made it easier to remind myself that Jace was my arch enemy and he deserved to be hated. I also reminded myself that I was also capable of equal destruction as he was and would not be afraid to use my newfound confidence to take him down in his own game.

With Jace's new respect for my ability to play his games, Isabelle's intrigue and her want to assimilate with Simon and I, and Simon's innocent act following his lie, I felt slightly more comfortable in my own skin.

Until Friday.

Friday meant unavoidable contact between Simon and Jace, whom Isabelle and I both knew hated each other, possibly more than I had ever hated Jace. I wasn't sure what caused Simon to spontaneously ignite and remain heated when it came to Jace, but I didn't question it, especially not after what I now knew Simon was capable of. There was a side to Simon that I never knew existed, a side that I felt worried about because I didn't know how far he would take things.

It was hard not having anyone to confide in about Simon's lie, except for Jace, but he was a part of the problem so I didn't find myself able to discuss it with him. In fact, I tried my hardest to have nothing to discuss with him. Jace had a bad omen about him, which attracted all kinds of wicked events. Usually it was smart to avoid those kinds of people.

I feared Friday so much that by the time it came, Isabelle had to force me out of bed, where I had felt content playing sick. She didn't get on my nerves much anymore because she had stopped teasing me altogether. I still hadn't forgiven her behavior over the years, but I was warming up at least, partly because Simon was there to reassure me that she deserved the chance to be understood, since she was the one calling the truce. I could deal with her now at least, and that was all that mattered. Though, she wasn't exactly helping her case by playing the wake-up patrol.

I groaned, staring at my clock. "It's 6:30AM on a Friday, Isabelle. We don't have class until 8:00 AM," I said, my voice harsh and grumbly from lack of sleep the night before, in anticipation of the bad events sure to occur in Philosophy class with Simon and Jace sitting in the same room.

She smiled at me brightly and patted my head. Evidently she was a morning person – all the more reason to be annoyed by her presence. I felt ready to hiss as if I were a vampire getting hit by a ray of sun.

"We have a lot of work to do before 7:30 AM when Jace and Simon show up!" she shrieked, not at all considering that I wasn't a morning person like she was.

I stared at her, or more so glared. I was not in the mood this morning, and that was for sure. "Why? I have no one to impress."

I thought hard and nodded my head, confirming my own words. I literally didn't have anyone to impress, not even Simon. We were just friends. With this confirmation, I scowled more at Isabelle; there was no reason for me to be awake right now.

She tilted her head as she noted my morning anger, which then induced her into a fit of giggles. "Oh, Clary, you're so funny. Of course you have someone to impress! Why don't you give Jace something to look at today! I enjoy the way you stun him into silence. It's amusing." Isabelle went on as if this were the most natural conversation in the world – as if she hadn't waken me up at 6:30 AM to talk about impressing Jace into silence.

Though I did like silence, with Jace it was dangerous. And why should I care anyway what he thought about how I looked? It wasn't like he secretly thought I was attractive like I apparently thought he was, especially whenever I met his eyes. I shuddered just thinking about how wrong that feeling was.

"Why would I want to silence him with how I look?" I asked, uncomprehending. "That kind of seems insulting." Isabelle giggled again, as she pulled my covers back abruptly, the cold air of the room hitting my bare legs. "Woah what gives!" I screamed.

"I want to dress you today!" she said, her voice excited. I was about ready to pounce at her throat at this point. I seethed, hating the way that she was a morning person, hating the way she was so peppy and enthusiastic and demanding. "Let's see what we have to work with!" She ruffled through my closet, scoffing and guffawing when she stopped on a few pieces. I wasn't in the mood for the dramatics so I just stared at her, unblinking. "It's safe to say that you need to borrow something from my closet today," she decided. With a hop, skip and a jump, she was suddenly out of the room.

Groaning, I rolled onto my stomach and covered my face in my pillow. I felt a breeze on my legs, and Isabelle's presence was back almost too quickly. Something hit my legs. I sat up, staring at a pile of clothes she had tossed at me.

"Try them all on! I want to see the options." Her voice was demanding, meaning there was no arguing or changing her mind.

I played along, groggy but unwilling to challenge Isabelle with such little energy due to the early rising time. Unlike her, I was not a morning person.

Finally, she agreed on the outfit I would wear after I tried on three others. I would wear a simple black pencil skirt that cut modestly just above the knee paired with a flowing one-shouldered white blouse. Isabelle held a pair of her heels in her hands, which were alarmingly – and unfortunately – my size. They were red peep-toe pumps that slightly blinded me with their brightness.

Isabelle herself had changed into a sequined black dress with cap-sleeve shoulders that cut high on her legs, which stretched for miles. She had on pumps that looked similar to what she handed me, except they were bubblegum pink. I sensed it was her favorite color, considering the whole living area was pink. I despised pink, I instantly decided.

I slipped on the heels and Isabelle started on my makeup. She was about to apply red lipstick, when I pushed her hand away. "Red lipstick is too much. This is college, not the runway."

It was bad enough that I had let her push me this far. Maybe I should have used some of my aggressive energy to channel toward Isabelle a bit more. Instead of letting her win all the time, she needed to understand that I wasn't just some new play toy. I still had my reservations about her.

"Oh come on! Your whole first week you looked so drab! You need a style boost to get some male attention!" She evidently wasn't going to allow me to respond, as she began to apply the lipstick.

Instead of fighting it, I gave in again, reminding myself to later have a talk with her about how fast she was moving with the whole roommate friendship thing. It was starting to make me leery, especially the whole waking me up at 6:30 in the morning and forcing me to dress up with her thing. What were her motives?

An hour of girly prepping went by, with Isabelle dressing me, finding the right accessories, applying makeup and nail polish, doing my hair, and then she made me practice walking in the four inch heels. At least now I would be about 5'8, which was Isabelle's normal height without heels. She towered above me in her five inch heels and I imagined that she was now taller than Jace.

Just as I thought his name, he appeared. I should have suspected as much. See, bad omen.

When Jace entered the room, I eyed his appearance, surprised to find that he had also undergone some sort of makeover himself this morning. I wondered by who was behind his transformation and why they happened on the say day, however I was unable to find an answer. _Magnus maybe? _I waited for someone else to appear but he entered the room alone.

Jace's normal attire of plain-cut t-shirts and distressed jeans with holes in the knees were replaced with clean-cut dark wash jeans and a short-sleeved button-down shirt undone more than it should have been. I had never seen so much of his skin before. Maybe I never wanted to again.

He smirked, catching my staring, and nodded at me, his smirk playing up his lips. "I see Isabelle made you dress up too, as Magnus made me. To what is this glorious occasion we are all dressed so nicely for?"

I shrugged. "Beats me." I looked to Isabelle for an answer, but she ignored the small talk as if it hadn't even been spoken.

He seemed content that I was also in the dark, accepting my answer with a shrug. He plopped his backpack down by the couch and sat down, kicking his feet up on the end table.

Isabelle scolded him, but he didn't remove his feet. She sighed and gave up, disappearing into her room to finish her makeup, leaving Jace and I alone. As always. I seethed, imagining myself stomping over to Jace on the couch and planting a good slap on his face, just for the hell of it. However, I couldn't remove myself from my doorway, as I was gripping it tightly for balance. Damn heels, why did they have to be so impossible to wear?

"You look miserable," he noted, as I was suddenly aware how hard I was gripping the doorway to my individual room to support my weight. I had an excuse because I had never worn heels this tall before and I couldn't even remember the last time I wore heels.

"I don't think I can wear these all day," I admitted.

He shrugged. "I don't understand why you women put yourself through so much pain and suffering."

"I always suffer for fashion!" Isabelle shrieked from the other room, as she was applying her makeup.

I laughed and turned to Jace, now aware our conversation wasn't private. He didn't seem to mind. He patted the couch next to him. "Have a seat and relieve your feet. Or do I need to come over there and help you?"

I looked down at my heels, my knees shaking and my toes burning from the pain of standing in them. There would be no way I could manage to walk in these around campus all day. I couldn't even keep myself standing right now.

"Um…" I pursed my lips. "Help would be nice in all honesty." It was hard to admit defeat to someone like Jace, but the pain swelling at my feet made the Jace situation seem less immediately important.

He stood and took long strides over to me, attempting to smile at me for a peace offering. I was once again half-tempted to smack him and remind him who I was in case he got any ideas, but I refrained from any physical violence, my own version of a peace offering. I wondered if it would bite me in the ass again, crossing my fingers that he kept peace.

His arm draped around my waist, wrapping and supporting my weight better. Before I knew it, he had swept me up into his arms with grace and carried me to the couch, where I imagined him gently setting me down.

Instead, he dropped me hastily and without warning, and I hit the couch in a thump, my mouth falling open in shock at the sudden harsh gesture. It shouldn't have surprised me, but I sat there shocked, my eyes beginning to water and sting.

He laughed, apparently finding it funny, and sat next to me. I hurried to straighten my skirt and fix my hair, attempting to believe that he hadn't just found a way to get back at me for smacking him. But he had. My cheeks burned in an embarrassing rosy red color and I could sense his eyes grazing my face, aware of the warmth building in my cheeks.

Alarmed at the way Jace could sudden change from gentleness to hostility, I began to feel more pressure behind my eyes, tears threatening to spill over. Isabelle would kill me if I let a tear fall and smear my makeup, so I told myself to hold it in. Plus, I needed to learn to channel the sadness into anger anyway. Now that I knew how to work with anger, I needed to flaunt it. I definitely could use some work on controlling other emotions like sadness, though.

It was stupid to cry, over someone like Jace who was a lost cause. Just when I had thought he might be a different person after how considerate he was over the Simon situation, he had once again found a way to remind me that he was still the same person I knew back in high school.

I had always wanted to believe people could change and be better, but Jace appeared to be the exception to the rule, as he always was. Simon was right all along about Jace – he had taken drastic measures to ensure that I was protected from moments like this when I let my guard down for even a second and Jace took advantage of it, like Simon warned me he would. And maybe that was what hurt the most. I had already been warned and I didn't listen to the warning.

_Channel anger_, I tried to tell myself. It wasn't working. I just felt the pressure building heavier behind my eyelids. I had lost control of my situation and here I was about to cry? Talk about elementary. I shouldn't be letting him see how he gets to me. That was the whole point of showing him how angry I was!

"I'd hate to see you ruin your essence of beauty by crying over someone like me," Jace had said, in a mumble low enough that only I could hear.

I was painfully aware that he was watching me as I attempted to contain my emotions and reel them back in. The negative about keeping my emotions of anger and sadness forefront was that they could unleash at any moment now that I knew how to do so. I just needed to learn to control the sad emotions like I had with my angry emotions. It seemed like Jace had pushed exactly the right buttons to cause me to release the uncontrollable sadness that I felt from being taken advantage of by him. Simon warned me; and I didn't listen.

I tried to distract myself by imagining that my emotions were held back by floodgates. I knew that once they were opened like Jace had just triggered, it was often hard to close them unless another equally powerful emotion startled me into silence. Once I could find another emotion to replace my sadness with, I could barricade my emotions again, until the next time the gates were triggered opened. If I could just figure out how to change my sadness into anger, I would be okay.

I felt better reassuring myself this, only wishing I could put my plan into action.

As if on cue, Simon threw the door open and waltzed in, his graphic tee today reading: _sarcasm loading, please wait_ with a half-filled loading bar pictured below. He met my gaze and understood that I had been upset, despite the fact that I had actually been reeling it in by the time he entered the room.

That didn't stop him.

All hell broke loose, as Simon lunged at Jace, tackling him off the couch, screaming at him to stop hurting me. Jace fought back, pushing Simon off him, onto the coffee table. A crash of glass rang out, Isabelle's flower pot breaking. A startled Isabelle ran out of the room and caught sight of the commotion.

My emotions crawled back into their hole, as I grasped hold of myself in the situation, intuitively throwing myself in the fight to peel Jace off Simon, or Simon off Jace. I wasn't sure who was attacking who at this point.

One of them accidently snagged my hair as they were thrashing with each other, causing a scream of pain to escape my lips. It seemed to have caused them both to pause long enough for Isabelle to drag Simon away from Jace. She also put a hand on her brother's shoulder, keeping him distant from Simon.

My now-watery eyes met Simon and then flickered to Jace; I looked toward his hand, dismayed to see a patch of my red hair in his hands. I felt at my head, a large area of hair missing on the side of my head, my jaw popping open in shock at the touch of my skin where curly red hair used to be.

Jace stared wide-eyed at me, his expression apologetic, but his lips unwilling to form words adequate to describe how he felt about it. Not even a sorry.

Before anyone could console me, I threw off my heels and ran into my individual room, slipping my backpack on my shoulder. Everyone stared at me unmoving as I pushed past them all, traitor tears streaking my face, as I exiting the room and ran down the hallway barefoot, unsure where I was going. I had my laptop and sketch pad in my backpack and that was all I would need to stay away from the chaos all day.

I had no intentions of going to class at that point, until I realized Professor Morgenstern was handing back graded papers today and I needed to get mine. Dismayed, I found a bathroom in the English building and attempted to fix my makeup.

It seemed unlikely that I would be able to fool anyone – without makeup to touch up my face I was stuck looking like a mascara-streaked freak. I braced myself as floods of tears slid down my face with an acid pain as they seeped into my skin. I was mostly upset about the fact that I was even upset in the first place, which was ironic.

In English class, I sat in the back of the class, next to a boy who smelled like barbeque sauce and a girl who was constantly texting, fidgeting or checking her reflection in a handheld mirror. I hastily took notes through class, willing myself to avoid looking at Jace, Alec or Isabelle who sat in their normal spots.

Occasionally I could tell in my peripheral vision that one of the siblings looked back at me in concern, however I did my best to avoid determining who it was that kept looking back at me.

Class ended and I picked up my paper from the professor's desk. A big red C was etched on the top of my face as my jaw dropped in shock. I had worked on the paper for hours a few days ago, sure I would get an A. _My day was just getting better by the minute! _I thought sarcastically.

I felt a hand on my shoulder – a familiar, gentle but rough hand. Its contradicting feeling could only mean the touch was from one person: Jace. He was the one person that made me feel the most conflicted in regards to my emotions. Hate, but inevitable hope. And sadness, I reminded myself.

I ran as fast as I could out of the classroom toward my Philosophy class, where unfortunately I wouldn't be able to avoid human contact. Almost everyone had this class: Jace, Isabelle, Simon, and a whole pack of Jace's minions: Jonathan, Sebastian and Magnus. The only one who didn't have this class was Alec, but he was a year above us so that was why.

Simon chose a seat next to me in the back. I didn't try talking to him and he didn't bother me about it, ever since he came this morning to visit. We sat in silence, watching other students choose their seats. Jace and his minions sat on my other side, separated by Simon through me. They, too, made no move to bother me, but their presence did enough of just that.

The class period went by surprisingly quickly, as the professor droned on about his expectations for the class and how it would run, since it was a Friday-only class. I tuned most of it out, focusing inward at my thoughts.

A lot had been running through my head, as I pondered the changing emotions I felt toward Jace throughout the week, and then I thought about how Simon had reacted to my changing emotions. I had only shown small signs of any small affection toward Jace that I had known of, but Simon had acted as if it were me confessing my undying love for Jace, as Jace in turn had often joked about.

The Simon and Jace thing had had caused all sorts of trouble I didn't once deem imaginable, and yet it had all happened. It seemed impossible that Simon could turn violent, but I guess Jace was the kind of person who could turn a sane person over to an insane state. He was also the kind of person that could make me hate him, but at the same time deal with his bullshit because apparently I still thought there was hope in him.

It was getting to that point that reminding myself to hate Jace wasn't working anymore. It sounded insane, especially after he had pulled my hair out this morning, but denying that I couldn't hate Jace felt counterproductive.

The rest of the day, I dodged and avoided almost all human contact, mostly in order to avoid my own emotions. At lunch I sat alone, Simon aware that I required my distance. He, too, sat alone, but I didn't try to think too hard about that. Jace sat with his typical table, and I would catch some of them staring at points, but I willed myself to look away whenever Jace himself looked in my direction. None of them made a move to come up to me. For this, I was grateful – maybe the brunt of the tormenting was over.

After lunch I locked myself in my room, hearing the sounds of relieved college students hooting and hollering that it was Friday and the first week was over. The weekend was here now, with my classes over, but I didn't dare leave my room for fear I would run into another problem I didn't know how to handle. It felt counterproductive to revert back to the Clary that likes to hide from her troubles, but I didn't care. I just wasn't ready to face the world. Everyone has those days and today was mine – it was the last straw.

I stayed in my room except for breakfast, lunch or dinner, when I went to the dining hall and sat alone. Managing to avoid human contact all weekend left me so emotionally drained, that by Monday I had grown so tired of being alone. I told myself I wouldn't let things bother me so much during week two of classes. After all, I couldn't let my newfound confidence regress completely just because I had felt sadness and didn't know how to control it. I needed to channel the anger again to replace my blues.

I finally decided it was best to pretend none of the fighting actually happened and act indifferent about it all. Life would be easier if I pretended Simon didn't throw himself in a dumpster, Jace didn't pull out a patch of my hair, and the two guys in my life – whether I wanted them there or not – weren't constantly fighting. I would also ignore any emotions that went along with those terrible events. It made things less complicated to just overlook it all.

Monday morning on week two, Jace showed up at his usual time to walk with Isabelle and I to class, with Alec tagging along. Simon also showed up, surprising everyone with his graceful presence. His shirt today read: _don't stop believing _with a picture of a yeti in the background. He seemed to be in a better attitude, despite being in the same room with Jace again.

Simon didn't have morning classes, so I took his arrival to my room to walk with me to class as a peace offering. I accepted and spoke my first words since the incident last Friday. My last words were "_Help would be nice in all honesty_" and they had been to Jace.

However, it was Simon who brought my vocal chords back into use. "Please never fight like that again," was all I had said. Simon nodded his head and pulled me into a hug, happy to hear my voice again and to know that I would forgive him for the way he acted, which had indirectly resulted in a noticeable patch of hair missing from my head. It was a bitch trying to cover that up, excuse my French.

After the hug, things returned to somewhat normal for us – and that was exactly what I had wanted to gain out of pretending none of the recent events had happened. Simon dropped me off at class, promising to meet me for lunch after his morning class, which started a few hours later than mine.

When I got to class, I hypothetically put on my big girl pants and put the next part of my plan to feign indifference into action. If I could convince myself that I didn't care about Jace at all, it might be easier to shut off the sadness.

Jace, Isabelle and Alec seemed pleasantly surprised to find me sitting by them again. Jace turned to me, eyes big and hopeful. "I apologize for making you cry. After you ran away in distress, I felt guilty I wasn't there to at least wipe away your tears for you."

As great as his words were for closure on the situation, I couldn't get past how gentle they sounded, and once again I found myself lulled in the trance of Jace Wayland. His golden eyes danced, as he asked for forgiveness.

Common sense should have told me that nothing would change. I mean, hello, he just pulled out my hair last Friday after getting in a fight with my best friend because he made me cry. I wasn't sure why but regardless of said events, I wanted to believe otherwise – that Jace could actually change. I was sure that he actually possessed the ability to be gentle with his words, even if he went back to his sarcastic exterior shortly after.

I was officially the biggest idiot on the planet. Pretending to hate him anymore wasn't going to work – because for some reason I didn't. Don't ask me why, because I didn't know, either. Well, there goes that plan. Now what?

"I'll forgive you if you pretend it never happened," I said. "That I never cried."

He frowned. "I don't know if I can pretend I didn't hurt you."

The only response I could consider was: "Oh."

* * *

**Once again I've gotten a lot of great reviews! Thanks so much guys! **

**A lot of you have been saying that Clary is accepting Jace too fast. I don't want to drag things out too long but at the same time I will not let her just give in on a whim, it will be more realistic than that! If I am still moving too quickly, feel free to give any feedback or ideas that you think might add to the realism of Clary resenting Jace, I take everything into account!**

**Bad ass Clary was kind of absent in this chapter because I needed to set up the very next chapter...which is when we start to see a whole new side of Jace! My explanation for the absence of the angry Clary is this: she had thought that she was 100% angry and willing to jump at Jace's throat, but she still has a lot left to get over. Years of pain don't just diminish overnight! Strength is learned over time.**

**Though I do have a lot pre-written, I do think I want to go in and add a few things because I don't have as many minor characters like Jonathan or Sebastian becoming important until much later. I think I want to change that and make it happen sooner though. Do you guys want to see what's up with Sebastian and Jonathan sooner or later? **

**In response to the question about a Jace POV, we will see at least one of those a bit later, maybe more if requested! I was having trouble deciding where to put any Jace POV chapters, since it is a lot different to write.**

**Thanks again! Unfortunately I won't be updating until Friday this week since I've got a lot going on homework-wise and work-wise! Take care until then!  
**

**-M**


	9. Our Lives Became Intertwined

Dumpster Diving, Chapter 09: Our Lives Became Intertwined

* * *

"Excuse me, Professor Morgenstern?" I asked quietly, suddenly nervous, as I knocked on the office door of my English professor's office.

It was my second week of school on a Monday night and I was tired, ready to retreat to my room for the night; it had already been a long day. I felt a nagging feeling in my stomach as I stood at the door of Professor Morgenstern's office for his office hours, where students could come in and express any concerns with him. His hours happened to fall in the evening, after dinner time, right when all my energy was zapped.

Professor Morgenstern looked up from some papers he was looking at on his desk, his lips pressed in a line. He waved me inside his office. "Come on in, Miss…?" He paused, waiting for my name.

"My name is Clary Fray. I'm in your 8AM English 101 class."

He nodded and motioned toward the chair across the desk from him. "Have a seat, Miss Fray. And you may call me Mr. Morgenstern. Professor is too formal. What can I help you with today?"

I fumbled with my backpack, laying it on the floor next to the chair, before plopping down. I dug through my bag, looking for my English folder. "I, uh…" I continued to search in my bag until I found the folder, pulling out a graded assignment from last week. "I wanted to know why you graded my paper as a C. I thought I had covered everything you asked for in the assignment."

I handed him the paper and his eyes grazed the paper. He nodded his head, remembering. "Ah, yes. It was a well-written paper, Miss Fray, but I could sense that your writing potential is much greater. The analysis is there, I was just looking for something more than straight analysis…" He trailed off, handing the paper back to me. "I suspect you are a young woman capable of some creativity. I'd like to see you use some of that to find more abstract ways to explain your stance on the topic."

Blankly, I stared at the paper, noticing only a few red marks. Last Friday when he gave the papers back, I had spent ten minutes in awe, staring at the grade and wondering why I had gotten such a low grade for a paper I had put hours into. It was as if the results of my first week were biting me in the ass, as I hoped they wouldn't due to the intense amount of pain I felt during that time.

I pursed my lips, trying to shut my brain off. I needed to focus on something other than pain or sadness for once. Last week was in the past and these were just minor setbacks. I needed to bring Bad Ass Clary back,

"But my writing is fine, other than that?" I asked for confirmation.

"Yes," he agreed. "You unmistakably put a lot of time into it. I was just anticipating something more. College is a place to really challenge yourself to think in a different way." He stared at me, a smile forming on his face. "I am pleased you came to see me. It shows that you are devoted to your education. Next time I presume you will prove me right and earn an improved grade."

I tried to smile, except I still felt a little upset at his highly-set expectations. It seemed impractical to give someone a C when he liked the writing but wanted more. He was the professor though, and I couldn't really defy him about it.

Sighing, I nodded. "Thank you for your time," I said. I started to stand up, but hesitated, another question burning in my mind. "May I bring a draft before the next paper is due so that I can have some criticism before the final copy is turned in?"

"I would be glad to look over a draft next time." He nodded. Suddenly his attention was distant, as he stared at the door, noticing something. "I apologize, it seems as if my son has arrived."

"Oh, then excuse me," was all I said. I started to stand up. "Thank you, again, Mr. Morgenstern." As I reached the door, I found myself face to face with Jace. My jaw dropped and I stuttered. "J-Jace?"

Jace looked at me sideways, unsure if he should tease me at all, in front of Mr. Morgenstern, who was evidently his father. "Why are you here?" Jace asked me, shock evident in his voice. I hadn't seen him this morning and regrettably this was the last place I wanted to see him. The air began to fill with awkward energy surrounding us; I had no idea how to act around him, especially in front of a professor.

I heard Mr. Morgenstern's voice behind me, as he was suddenly standing next to me, looking at Jace. "Ah, Jace. You are friends with Clary?"

Jace nodded, apparently not willing to correct his father about the word "friend" which didn't accurately describe our relationship at all. I wondered what kind of relationship he had with Mr. Morgenstern – who was no doubt a man with high expectations – that would cause him to lie like that.

"Well," Mr. Morgenstern said, clasping his hands together. He stared directly at Jace as he spoke, never once making eye contact with me. "I can't help but wish you were as ambitious as Miss Fray. She seems to care more about her education than you do. Maybe you could spend a little more time with her, preparing for my class."

Jace flinched slightly. I wouldn't have noticed if we hadn't been standing so closely together. "Father, I-" He was cut off.

"Miss Fray," Mr. Morgenstern said, his eyes making contact with mine again. There was an uncomfortable feeling that told me I shouldn't stare too closely at him, so I averted my eyes, pretending to look at Jace. "I would gladly increase your paper's grade to an A if you would promise to help Jace with the next paper? I will be assigning it tomorrow in class."

My hands felt clammy and my stomach began to churn. How do you tell a Professor, let alone Jace's father, that you didn't even like Jace and didn't want to bother with the extra credit because of it?

The answer: you couldn't.

"Sure," I said uneasily, glancing nervously back in Mr. Morgenstern's direction. He smirked slightly, something I recognized from Jace's tendencies.

"I appreciate your commitment to my class, Miss Fray." He took a step back. I turned in his direction and saw him scribble something on a sticky note. "Your grade will change in my grade book to an A."

"Thank you," I said, in awe. Everything always seemed to come back to Jace, and I didn't quite understand why. "Um, Jace…" I trailed off, making eye contact with Jace, who seemed slightly shaken up about the situation. Maybe I would have never recognized this before, but we had spent increasing amounts of time together, however unenjoyably they were, so I felt like I was slightly more used to his predispositions. "We'll talk tomorrow in class about when we can meet up," I said politely. I felt obligated in Mr. Morgenstern's presence to be civil; it still felt strange.

His jaw tightened as he suddenly avoided meeting my gaze. Usually Jace had been all too ready to watch me fall into the depths of his eyes, but not now. He seemed distant as he mumbled a response. "Sure."

"Have a great day, Miss Fray," Mr. Morgenstern said, excusing me.

I nodded curtly at them both and relieved myself from the scene, feeling the awkward sense of relief to be out of the room. It was startling to realize that Mr. Morgenstern was a lot like Jace – it definitely explained a lot of why Jace did what he did.

As I slowly made my way out of the English building, I heard shouting. I realized, with a fire burning at my cheeks, that it was Mr. Morgenstern. In response, I heard another sharp yell, a smacking noise, and then a loud thump of a door slamming.

The second yell had been Jace's voice.

…

Tuesday morning, I awoke hearing pounding at my individual door. Groaning, I stared at my clock to see that it was 6:30 AM. Who the hell was pounding at my door? I didn't need to even be ready for another hour! If it was Isabelle, I swear I was going to slam my door shut in her face.

I sighed, groggily. The problems from my first week never seemed to end, as they rolled over into my second week, which I had hoped would be more like a normal week of college. I was dead wrong, as usual.

Sleepily, I trudged toward the door, uncaring that my pajamas last night had just been my undergarments – I hadn't felt the need to throw on my shorts and a tank, assuming it was Isabelle at the door, once again here to try to force me into heels and makeup. Even if it were Simon, I wouldn't have cared about him seeing my undergarments, because it wasn't like we saw each other as anything as more than friends. It was too early to care, regardless.

Swinging the door open, Jace stood there, leaning against one side of the frame, fully dressed for the day. He had slight purple under his eyes and I wondered how early he had woken up to bother me so promptly. I suddenly remembered what I was wearing and who was standing in front of me and my drowsy eyes shot open wide.

"It seems as if you were expecting me, seeing that you already dropped your pants before you even saw me." He smirked, clearly satisfied with himself.

Nothing about his attitude this morning seemed to indicate that today might be any different with how he would treat me. Ever since I had forgiven him for ripping out a chunk of my hair, he had returned to his normal Jace-like dispositions, aside from the run-in with his father, at Mr. Morgenstern's office.

"What do you want?" I asked irritably. I tried to cover my chest with my hands, unsuccessfully. He stared past my attempts to conceal myself. "Stop looking!" I growled. He disobeyed, as expected. "Ask any other girl and they'd willingly drop their pants for you. I am only indecent because you are knocking at my door before I usually get up for the day!" I felt my voice rising with agitation.

He shrugged, pushing past me into my individual room. He had never come inside before, mostly because I never invited him in. He took it upon himself today to grant the invitation, as he began opening my drawers and snooping inside. It was too early to remember how to object to such an invasion of privacy.

I was startled when he threw clothing at me, when he located a V-neck tee in my middle drawer and jeans in my bottom drawer. I struggled into my jeans with haste and threw the shirt over my head, relieved to be clothed in front of him.

"For your sake, much better," he said, seemingly deep in thought, his eyes averted.

"Why are you bothering me this early?" I asked, dejectedly. I plopped onto my bed and rubbed at my eyes – I was not a morning person as he appeared to be. He was just as annoyingly in-my-face for a Tuesday, as Isabelle been last Friday.

"It's fun, first of all." He smirked his signature teasing smile, but then his face changed and he looked as if he were suppressing a new emotion from showing. "Actually, I'm here because you walked in on something that no one else knows about."

I was unsure of what he was referring to, until I remembered that I had seen him yesterday entering Mr. Morgenstern's office. "Are you talking about your dad?"

He nodded grimly. "You see, he is my biological father. He reached out to me back in high school and I never told anyone that we made contact, or that I even knew who my father was. They had all assumed my father's surname was Wayland – it was the name on my birth certificate, which they found when I was dropped on the Lightwood's porch as a child too young to have memories. But Michael Wayland, my father's name on the birth certificate… well, that person doesn't exist. He won't explain any of it to me though. He just promises that I am his son, and well – don't I look like him?"

Confused, I dropped my hands from my face. Rubbing at my eyes seemed to only make me feel more tired.

I eyed Jace, looking for similarities to Mr. Morgenstern. He had white-blond hair while Jace had long golden blond hair, but each of them had sharp jawlines and strong foreheads. They both seemed to have a smirking and teasing smile, which Jace must have adopted from his biological father's behavior. Their looks didn't appear to be the most similar, but their mannerisms most definitely were.

I shrugged. "Yes, you do seem alike. Why are you telling me this?"

"Because," he began. He seemed hesitant to continue, until I glared at him, annoyed he was here and irritated that he was taking so long to get to his point. Smirking, he sat on my bed next to me. "You know a secret of mine now," he admitted, resentfully. "I told you that no one else knows."

"Why not?" I asked, forgetting that I didn't actually care. I was just going with the flow of the conversation. If it were my choice, I probably wouldn't have let him in my room, but that was just because I wanted to avoid my problems. I needed to stop being a baby about everything, I realized resentfully. So I listened.

"Robert and Maryse Lightwood adopted me when I was a child– far too young to remember who my biological parents were. I grew into their family and I fit in. I never wanted them to find out about meeting with my biological father because I thought it would make them feel like I'd rather be Valentine's son than a son of the Lightwood family. I don't want them to think that, because I love them too." When he finished talking, he was looking down at his hands. "I should feel ashamed that I used to run off to visit Valentine, but-"

"Who is Valentine?" I cut in, politely – or my attempt at being polite for it being 6:30AM.

He looked up at me. "Morgenstern; his first name is Valentine. He prefers I call him by his first name, I forgot to mention that." I nodded, and he continued where he left off before I interrupted him. Evidently he wasn't resentful about my interruption. He continued, "There's something so great about learning your roots and where you've come from… I just felt I owed it to myself and to Valentine to see what kind of father-son relationship we could have."

I sat still and stared at Jace, dismayed that once again I was being dragged into his grasp, this time with his family drama. What about this boy kept him coming back and intervening with my life? I was starting to get very maddened by it. Suddenly the image of the Mad Hatter jumped into my head and I no longer pitied him, but understood what it felt like to be driven mad. I was being driven mad, by Jace.

Finally, I sighed. "Why don't you just try to explain it to the Lightwoods? I'm sure they'd understand your special bond with Professor Morgenst-…I mean, Valentine."

"I can't," he said quietly. His voice was low and sullen, which caused me to look up sharply. I stared at his face, lines etched into it. Were those worry-lines?

"Why not?" I asked, attempting to keep my voice soft.

I was the only one who knew about this, so I had better bite back at my hatred for him for just a second and listen. As much as I thought I could have hated him, he deserved to have at least someone who knew about all this, and evidently because I walked right in on it, that person would be me.

He pursed his lips, before hesitantly responding. "I'm afraid they'll kick me out of their family if they think I like Valentine better, since I've been secretly visiting him all these years…"

…

Jace was surprisingly quiet after his confession in the morning. We went to English class and were assigned a paper, which Jace said we could start tonight, since I was obligated to help him. He told me he'd text me when I should come over and I agreed to give him my number, however tentatively. It felt like just another avenue he could tease me through – just another way he could infiltrate my life.

He was quiet again after the exchange, causing me to wonder what he was thinking about. This was the most civil interaction we have ever had. All our other attempts at being civil had otherwise ended badly, as I sorted through my memories of the first week, remembering how easily he could turn off his gentleness and become a demon again.

Even though we went through the rest of our classes together in silence, sitting together he somehow seemed more distant. He never once teased me – no redhead jokes, no tripping or teasing; he was too deep into thought to notice my existence. I probably should have liked it that way, but I didn't.

At lunch he sat with his crowd, which I once again felt alienated from. Even if I had wanted to sit with them – which I swear I didn't – Simon was my lunch buddy and always would be. Except for when I was extremely mad and embarrassed that I sat alone all last weekend; besides that lonely time, Simon would forever be my lunch date. At least that much I felt confident about.

A few of Jace's newly-initiated minions – they introduced themselves as Camille and Raphael – came over to my table with Simon and made fun of us probably in an attempt to make Jace happy. I was surprised that Jace never joined.

Simon pretended not to notice that Jace didn't tease us too, still carrying on about how I should throw some more of my anger in their faces in the form of a sucker punch. I still refused, somewhat believing that I could actually form a sort of neutral friendship with the table, even if it was just a truce. I was so done with all the drama.

The rest of the day seemed to go by soundlessly when I returned to my dorm room after classes finished for the day, until out of nowhere I got a text from Jace: _My place or yours? ;)_

Alarmed that he was still acting like himself, I glared at the phone. I quickly typed in a response, unwilling to play his games. I typed my response: _Yours. You already infiltrated my personal space here once today._

My phone buzzed again almost instantly after I had sent my message. It said: _You can infiltrate my personal space any day ;) 204 Azazel Hall. See you soon, Red._

Staring at my phone in disbelief, I realized that he had never called me "Red" before. It appeared like it was more of a nickname than an insult, but you could never be too sure with Jace. He had been the one to invent the "Dumpster Girl" nickname; I hadn't heard that one in a while, which should have been reassuring but wasn't.

After I packed my backpack with my homework from the day, I headed toward Azazel Hall, feeling especially guilty that I was going there to visit Jace rather than Simon. Even with the revelations I had about Simon's lie and the drama it had caused Friday, it somewhat felt wrong to be there without visiting him. However, I needed a 4.0 in college and apparently my English grade depended on Jace of all people.

Thankfully Simon and I never crossed paths as I made my way to the second floor of the dorm. I reached room 204 and knocked once, the door immediately shooting open, Jace standing there impatiently. "You can wait in my room, I need to use the men's room," he half-shouted as he disappeared to relieve himself.

I closed the door shut behind me and took a stab at which room was Jace's, assuming it was the one on the side by the bathroom he ran into. His roommate Jonathan's door was open, but the room was empty of human life. Jace's door was open, too. I wondered what it would feel like to be comfortable around a roommate.

Living with Isabelle, I kept my individual door closed, regardless of the positive steps we had been making in getting to know each other. I guess I had more reason to be a recluse, considering the past I had with all these people I recently began to associate myself with. Though, it was mostly out of my control that I was associating myself with the Jace crowd.

Stepping into the room on the side of the bathroom Jace was occupying, I noticed the walls were white and empty – unlike Simon, Jace had pinned up no posters. I was half-expecting naked women to cover his walls or at least self-portraits with "sexy" written all over them in his handwriting. On his desk, his school supplies were neatly organized, and he appeared to be completely unpacked into his closet with a relatively small wardrobe of dark colored shirts and distressed jeans. His bed was made with a dark green comforter and matching pillow case. I wondered if it was his favorite color.

There wasn't much to tell from the room, other than the fact that it was unrealistically clean. Like Simon, he had one picture frame on his bedside stand, of him with Isabelle and Alec; and there was a young boy in the picture too. I picked up the picture and stared, having never seen the boy before.

"That's my younger brother, Max Lightwood." Jace stepped into the room behind me. I knew he had meant adoptive brother because he had never taken their name. I never thought to ask him why; it didn't seem like any of my business at the time, except now his family life was kind of my business.

I set the frame down and nodded at the room. "You packed light," I noted.

"Football season starts soon," he said out of nowhere. Looking up at him, he acted as if he were talking to an old friend, with a sense of ease about him. "Maryse is going to drop off my football gear this weekend because I couldn't fit it in the car when the three of us were moving in to campus. Isabelle took up all of her car and some of Alec's sports car, which was where my stuff was because I have a motorcycle. Poor Alec had no room either. Isabelle drives an Escalade, that's how much stuff she brought." He laughed.

It felt alien to be let into Jace's life almost as if he was authorizing me to. It was too nonchalant, as if we hadn't been old enemies for the past four years; as if he hadn't forgotten the welcome he gave me when I first walked into my new room and every torturous moment up until this point in time; as if we could just drop our past, forget it, and move on. I certainly hadn't forgotten.

It felt wrong, and normally I would object, but I couldn't quite tell his angle. Curiosity was what kept me waiting to see how much Jace was going to tell me about his life or how long it would take for him to crack a joke or pull a prank. So far, it didn't seem like he was going to. And that made me feel somewhat panicked. I tried to suppress it.

"So how old is Max now?" I asked quietly, as I situated myself at the foot of his bed, my legs hanging off. He sat next to me, toward the front end of the bed. I silently thanked an angel that he didn't sit closer, because I wasn't sure if I could handle the proximity – it probably would have sent me over the edge in either anger or admiration. I felt sickened by the way he was able to leave me so conflicted.

He looked over at the frame and picked it up, delicately fingering the edges. "He died last year on my birthday when I turned 17."

Before, I had felt the tension in the room easing as he opened up about himself; but now the energy in the room became depressing as he spoke about his adoptive brother's death.

I thought back to how Jace acted during our senior year of high school. He, and his brother and sister had let up on the jokes and teasing slightly that year. I recalled Simon and I had been wondering why they were less torturous and hoping they were just reaping the karma from their bullying over the years.

Sitting in Jace's room, staring up at his face as he looked to be suppressing tears, I felt guilty for ever thinking that. His little brother had died and I had selfishly wished bad things upon him.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, the only thing I could think of saying.

"Sorry is just a word," he mumbled back, regaining some of his Jace-like composure. "The only person who should be sorry about it anyway is the low life that murdered him."

My eyes bugged out. "Oh my God," I breathed, reaching out to Jace. I retracted when I realized that I didn't know if touching him was the brightest idea.

He pretended to ignore my conflicted gesture. "They never caught who did it," he said, his voice breaking when he said "it." He was talking about his brother being killed, and I could tell the word "it" did not encompass how he felt about the situation.

I wasn't sure why I did it. I scooted myself over toward Jace, leaning against the headboard of the bed next to him. He looked apprehensively at me, however made no move to stop me from coming closer.

"I've got a lot of unanswered questions about my life," he spoke, his words filled with sorrow and uncertainty. "Max is dead and his killer is still out there; Valentine abandoned me, but he's in my life now; and no one can explain why my last name is Wayland, even when I know that my father's last name is Morgenstern. Nothing adds up for me anymore."

All the years being bullied by Jace I had suffered immense amounts of pain and punishment. I thought I could never feel sorry for someone like him, because he chose to inflict pain on people for entertainment. I had always hated him for being so cruel, but had never once wondered why he was that way.

Now that I was finally getting a glimpse into his everyday struggles, I realized that his problems were a lot more complex than mine ever were. My only struggle was being bullied, which was directly affected by him. But he was affected by so many things – and though it wasn't right, he took those things out on me. Maybe I couldn't forgive him for that, but I could empathize with how he felt at least.

It felt strange, but I that moment I couldn't think of anything else to do but wrap my arms around him in a hug. Touching Jace Wayland had never been on my mind before – I used to avoid him like the plague or admire him from a safe distance as I sometimes felt myself falling into his eyes. But I had never once acted on anything I felt. And now that I was, I didn't know how I felt about it.

Comforting the person who should have been comforting me over the years was a conflicting experience. It wasn't until he wrapped his arms around my body in response that I realized he was probably the one that felt sorry now. I was here in his time of need, when he never was. And though I wasn't here by choice but rather because I had walked in on something, I was glad that I was able to provide some sort of support for him that he couldn't have gotten from anyone else.

From that point on, my relationship with Jace Wayland became much more complicated than I would have ever imagined, as our lives became intertwined.

* * *

**Sorry about posting a day late, everyone! I got sick after Halloween (I was a Shadowhunter!) and I still feel somewhat sick. After some of the reviews last time, I was going to insert a Jace POV between the last chapter and this chapter so that I could incorporate some of the things you guys were saying, but I just feel too sick to think clearly enough to write a new chapter. You'll get a Jace POV soon, but I didn't want to keep you waiting forever for a chapter, so here this one is!**

**Some of you guys didn't understand why Clary regressed, but you have to realize that it takes a lot of energy to change yourself like she is trying to! I hope you can understand. Also, a lot of you didn't like the Simon / Jace fighting. Simon is a little different than he is in the book, and I wanted it like that. He will become more like the Simon in the books now that their physical fighting is done. **

**A few other things: Sebastian will be explained in the Jace POV chapter, so look out for that. Jonathan will be explained a little later. I don't want to give anything away about that. And lastly, ****Jace's POV chapter will clear up why he is changing and what about him has changed.**

**Thanks for the reviews, favorites and follows! Hope you enjoyed this chapter. This is the one that starts the complicated relationship Jace and Clary will soon have. From here on, Clary will struggle with forgiving Jace, while Jace will struggle with changing himself and trying to get those around him to change too. And just so you are aware, Clary will NOT just give in. You will someday see the return of Bad Ass Clary!**

**-M**


	10. Poisonous

Dumpster Diving, Chapter Ten: Poisonous

* * *

Despite the progress I felt like Jace and I were making since last week, I was still tense knowing that at any moment he would just change his mind and hate me again. All Wednesday I avoided him, sitting in random empty seats in my morning classes so that he couldn't sit next to me. With this avoidance, I had a lot more time to myself to finally feel the anger for letting myself get wrapped up in Jace's drama.

What was it about him that made it so that he wouldn't leave me alone? I was starting to realize that I deserved a lot more privacy than I was given. Even though I would never get that being in college with people living in such close quarters, I felt like Jace specifically went out of his way to bother me. It was overkill.

Now that I finally was being left alone in class, I loved the space that avoiding Jace had given me. I used the entire lecture of Professor Morgenstern's class to ponder my life and everything I had reacted wrong to this week.

I thought about when Jace and Sebastian ganged up on me and threatened to dump me in a dumpster. I thought about how I should have stood up to them instead of letting Simon get caught up in it, which had directly led to Simon exploding on Jace with physical violence, not once but twice. It had also caused Simon's character to alter, as he threw himself in a dumpster in an attempt to get me to believe him that Jace was bad news.

Too, I reminded myself that I had run away too easily in many situations, like on the first day when I drove all the way home to Jocelyn and Luke. They had been able to provide me with extra encouragement like Simon had, but their words apparently were wasted. It didn't stop me from running away when Isabelle first started to warm up to me or after Jace pulled out my hair. I was a coward, despite all the people I had supporting me – in a way I felt like I had let them down.

There was no running away now, I decided. I wouldn't let myself. I had to start standing up for myself or else no one would ever take me seriously. Once they had all seen how capable I was at unleashing my anger, they backed off and appreciated it, but then I had regressed and shown weakness again and that was almost like an open invitation for events such as the incident with Simon and Jace that resulted in my hair being pulled out. It was my own fault, and that was the worst part.

If I hadn't backed down, if I had learned to be stronger like Luke and Simon had always taught me, maybe I wouldn't be in this predicament. Here I was, avoiding Jace like trying to avoid the Sun, but it was impossible. The only thing I could do would be to put on my sunblock – or in real terms, my angry face. That was the only thing I could do.

I felt a sharp poke in my back halfway through the class as I turned around and realized Jace was throwing pencils at me. All day went by like that, Jace throwing things at my back, trying to get my attention. I wasn't interested, possibly because of the fact that I hadn't confronted him about many things that I should have and I was unsure what I would say if I did confront him about them.

Something else made me want to continue avoiding Jace and his childish pencil-throwing. I was unnervingly scared of the progress Jace and I were making lately, if that's what you would call it. We shouldn't have made any progress at all – that was what was so alarming about it. I had already given him too many chances. It suddenly felt so right ignoring him, as hard as he had tried to get my attention during classes.

On my way to my last class of the day, I tried to slip out and sneak to my next class without him noticing, deciding that I would confront him later. I didn't want to deal with him just yet – I felt content ignoring the situation.

He tracked me down somehow, in the usual way that he surprised me by showing up out of nowhere with the worst possible timing.

"Did you really think me a fool?" his cool voice asked. Stopping in my tracks, I turned around to face Jace. I crossed my arms across my chest – I was cornered, again. Well, there were open sidewalks all around me, but just the fact that Jace had stopped me to talk made me feel cornered as if I couldn't escape.

"I'm just tired of drama," I said reluctantly. "I'm going to go now-"

Disinterested in his games, I attempted to walk away, toward class, but his arm gripped my elbow. Annoyed, I turned and shot daggers into him. He had most definitely cornered me.

"What. Do. You. Want?" I growled, darkly. I had rarely heard my own voice contain so much irritation in each word. _That was a good thing_, I reminded myself.

"I was thinking –you really helped me a lot with my English paper last night. I turned it in to Valentine outside of class and he told me that I did well on it. I wanted to know if you'd be my partner for the English project he was telling us about in class today," he said, with the sarcasm and teasing void from his voice. "Isabelle and Alec already picked each other," he added, when I said nothing. "Well, Isabelle practically pounced to steal Alec since he is usually my partner, but that's beside the point."

I hadn't remembered Mr. Morgenstern talking about a project, but then again I had felt so red hot with anger this morning as I had reminded myself of my countless mistakes. I was just beginning to realize how much of an annoyance Jace's petty problems were on my life and I had finally felt my anger, however displaced that it was. Unfortunately, with that anger I felt in class I had also been too distracted with avoiding Jace at all consequences lately that it was affecting my ability to focus on anything academically. If this was just the first two weeks of school, imagining the rest of the school year made me want to drop out.

"Fine, partner," I seethed, ensuring that he was aware of how much I despised agreeing to working with him. "Are you going to leave me alone now?"

To be honest, it seemed strange that I was hanging around Jace Wayland, the most popular and powerful guy from my hometown of Alicante. Here in Idris, he seemed different – still a conceited jerk, but obviously without a life if he was busy following me around all day. Or maybe he had seen something in me, when I had been there to help him. Doubtful, but it could be possible. I tried not to hope for it, reminding myself of the past times I had hoped for a change in him and had been mistaken.

"Leave you alone? We have the same classes," he noted, again without sarcasm. That time I had expected him to be annoyed or have a double-edged meaning behind his words, but they just felt indifferent. "Let's get to Psychology. I hear Pangborn is being spiteful today. Sebastian had him this morning and apparently there's a quiz today."

"Lovely," I mused.

It seemed like everything today revolved around Jace and how I had to feel about that. It was exactly what he liked and everything I didn't.

I glowered as we walked in silence toward our third Wednesday class together. His long legs reached much further than mine, so he had to slow down a few times for me to keep up. It wouldn't have bothered me at all if he just kept his own pace and we made it to class separately, but he insisted on falling into step with me when he could.

Being only the height of 5'4 compared to his 6'0 stature had its downsides. I was sure it was the reason he picked me as his high school play toy to begin with – either that or my fiery red hair and my obvious temper. With hope, I realized that Jace had no idea the wrath I could ensue if I actually stopped holding all of it back; the slap and the tears were only fragments of the emotions I truly felt welling up inside of me, waiting to be set free. That was a demon for another day.

"You haven't made any ginger jokes today," I noted, mostly to myself, as we walked. Looking to my side, I saw Jace nod with slight amusement on his face. "I'm not asking you to, but I've just noticed," I added awkwardly. Small talk with him felt uncomfortable and forced. It was almost easier to just banter with him – that felt more natural.

"I decided it was cruel to tease you for your red hair, when you undoubtedly envy my golden locks. I look like an angel, and you…well, your hair must have just caught on fire once or twice."

Though his words held enough of a sting in them, his facial expression and the tone he used to speak didn't match up. He was teasing and sarcastic as always, but I caught for one second a look in his eyes that was unresponsive. Either he was trying to lighten up to prevent me from just walking away or he was trying to break high school habits.

Something seemed dangerously wrong about all this interaction. As Simon might say, my spidey senses are tingling.

All through psychology, I kept peering over curiously at Jace from my notes, using my hair as a cover. He was mildly focused on the lesson, preparing for the quiz he heard about. Meanwhile, I had forgotten all about it and felt flushed when the professor passed out the quizzes to the lecture hall and I painfully remember staring at Jace instead of paying attention. The quiz was five questions and I would lose all five points. _A great addition to my already-wonderful second week_, I thought sarcastically.

Jace's voice caught me off guard. It was hushed in a whisper, and I realized it was the answer to the first question. Startled, I scribbled the answer on my paper and stared at the second question on my sheet. My pencil hovered as I racked my brain, wondering who the heck Freud was and why he was important. Jace's voice surprised me again, providing that answer too.

When he gave me all the answers and I had finished writing them, we got up one after another and handed the quizzes in, leaving the hall but keeping our distance to prevent the professor from noting odd behavior. The professor didn't seem to notice.

I stepped outside of the lecture hall, ten paces behind Jace, and looked around for him; he seemed to have disappeared. I shouldn't have been frustrated with this because it would provide an escape, but something inside of me felt slightly disappointed.

"Over here," Jace's voice said, a short distance down the hall. He was seated on the bench, rummaging through his backpack. "I'm just looking for my room key. Mind if we make a stop at my dorm room before we go get lunch?"

My eyes scanned his face for some sort of joke or catch, but there was none. I watched as he fished out his room key. He re-zipped his backpack and threw it over his shoulder.

"Ready?" he asked, calmly, as if we were the best of friends.

I nodded numbly, confused but curious. One second he was gone and the next he was inviting me to his room. I hadn't thought about why I accepted so hastily until after Jace started leading me through the halls.

I shrugged it off. There wasn't much I could lose going with him – my reputation was already at the lowest of the lows, so the idea of whatever trap I figured he was setting me up for didn't seem to faze me. I had the ability now that provided me with ammo to fire back at him, if all else failed. This could be a sort of test run of getting back into the swing of things with my feisty side. I needed to bring back the bad ass in me – I wasn't sure how, but I needed to.

I obediently followed Jace as he led me through campus toward his dorm, which was of course the same one Simon lived in. Praying to myself I never saw Simon, we entered the building and climbed the stairs silently, toward Jace's room. I remembered thinking the same thing the last time I was here, last night, when I helped Jace write his English paper. I most definitely should not have been here for a second time to see Jace rather than Simon; I was a terrible best friend.

Half-expecting to run into Simon at the dorm, I kept my head down, following behind Jace by watching his feet, as if I were doing the walk of shame. He guided me through to the second floor and unlocked his door halfway down the hall, throwing his backpack on the couch as he sprinted for his bathroom. It seemed like a trend for him to just disappear and leave me to explore his room.

I stepped inside his individual room and threw myself at his bed, burying my face in his pillow and grunting in frustration. I wondered if he was planning on dragging me around all day, idly. What would Simon think of what I was doing? What was I doing anyway? Just this morning I had given myself a pep talk to stand up for myself and here I was submitting myself to possible sabotage.

A million thoughts were going through my head at once and I felt conflicted.

Finally, Jace reappeared and pulled me off his bed by my backpack strap. Surprisingly I hung in the air a few inches off the ground. He laughed, but let go, gently returning my feet to the ground. I had flashbacks of the last time he lifted me in the air and promptly dropped me on my tailbone. I frowned.

"Did you want to leave your backpack here while we eat?" he asked, with slight enthusiasm. He must have just been hungry.

When I forgot to answer, he manually removed my backpack, deciding for me that I'd have to return to his room with him after he took me to lunch – something he also decided. I wondered what he was thinking through this all. Was this an evil plot to usher me around kindly when we were alone, only to crush my spirits? Or did he genuinely want someone's company and I just happened to be there, along for the ride, just as I had happened to be there when I walked in on him secretly visiting his father?

I supposed I should have used my stubborn nature to my advantage and refused all invitations, but until I saw the angle of his Wednesday torment, I was apparently going to go along with it out of pure curiosity. It would be my own fault if anything happened because of it; I guess I would have to accept that.

We left his dorm room to go to the campus dining hall, which all the dorms shared. Walking down the tight hallway, I suddenly felt conscious of how close Jace and I were walking, our arms nearly bumping as we walked down the hall like old friends. I consciously brought my arms closer to my body as I walked, trying to avoid touching him, even though the urge was there deep down.

"I'm feeling soup and salad," I announced, unsure if Jace was listening, when we entered the cafeteria.

He nodded. Around us, the loud echo of the dining hall made it impossible to speak coherently and actually have Jace hear me. I followed him as he led me toward Soup and Salad, silently.

"Are you getting soup and salad too?" I asked, my voice loud as I tried to talk over the background noise.

I thought about my question and wanted to hit my head up against a wall. He was on the football team – why would a football player want soup and salad? It seemed like it wasn't a manly meal, but once again Jace just nodded in response.

I stared at the back of his head through narrowed eyes, willing myself to prod his brain with the answers to all my questions about his behavior, but came up blank. His intentions today were as clear as the oil spill courtesy of BP.

When we got to the food station, Jace picked Hearty Potato soup with a Caesar salad and I picked up Vegetarian Vegetable and a Caesar salad as well. He chose a booth that only sat two people. I looked around, confused, wondering why we were eating alone.

After we dropped our food at our table, he waved me to follow him again – as if he thought I was incompetent to find the drinks station, despite the fact that I came here every day with Simon. I poured myself lemonade, watching Jace carefully as he chose iced tea.

When we sat back down, I decided I was tired of my questions forming in my head that remained unanswered.

"Okay, what the hell are you doing?" I asked, not hiding any agitation.

He was already crunching on his salad when I asked. His golden eyes met mine and I realized with a startle that he looked gentle.

I continued, trying to maintain my confidence from earlier, but I felt it slowly fading. "I don't understand why you were throwing things at me all morning and then once you caught me you've been leading me around, expecting me to follow. Did someone put you up to this?"

He stared at me quizzically, as if I spoke Martian.

"You're supposed to hate me," I clarified. "You hated me just fine last week. So why are you suddenly getting along with me? With the quiz answers and inviting me to your room…" I paused. "And are we on a date?"

The last word made me choke, as I contemplated the context of the situation. There was no way I was on a date with Jace Wayland. His buddies were about to jump out at any moment and dump ice over my head.

But they never showed up.

"Today is the first chance I was able to spend time with you alone when we weren't being forced to," he said, shrugging. "It was a test, I guess."

Not following, I waited until he continued, but he seemed content stopping there. Annoyed, I poked angrily at my salad. He watched with lightness in his eyes, looking impossibly gorgeous.

After I realized what I had just thought, I wanted to slap myself. _You cannot find him attractive. He has only been nice for like 5 minutes. It's all an act and it will be over soon._ No matter how many times I said this over and over to myself, I still thought he looked attractive across the table from me. _Stupid Clary._

"Okay," I said, uneasily. "And why do you need to test me alone? We've been alone other times, when we talked about your family and stuff and I helped you with your paper. What's so different about today?"

He shrugged his shoulders indifferently. "I just thought I'd try a different approach today. Doesn't everyone deserve a second chance?" His voice again remained nonchalant and indifferent.

Was that really what he was doing?

Scoffing, I stared down at the cucumber I stabbed, my voice sounding alien to even myself as I spoke. "You could have at least considered that maybe I didn't want to give you one. And maybe I didn't ask for you to either." I was beginning to sound stubborn, I realized with conflicted happiness on the matter. Did it make sense that in a way I was happy that I was becoming angry? _Nothing seemed to make sense anymore_, I thought.

In a sense it relieved me to realize I still had a backbone, no matter how small and fragile it was. Stubbornness was something I was effectively able to weaponize now, as needed. Apparently I chose now to need it. Once again, I was displacing my stubborn energy – I should have used it before when he dragged me to his room or invited me to lunch. But now? The timing was off. What was wrong with me?

Watching me carefully, Jace's eyes flickered around my face as I was pondering. _Was he trying to read me?_ I realized with shock that he was probably catching every emotion I felt as I sat deeply in thought across from him.

"Stop that!" I shrieked, slightly too loud. A table nearby glared at me, laughing among themselves at my expense. I heard Jace laughing, too, but his laugh was different. "And stop laughing. God, this is high school all over again."

"It doesn't appear like that to me. If it was, I'd be the one leading the pack of snickering college students." He smiled with dignity about his leadership qualities. It irked me.

"You seemed perfectly fine tormenting me with other people around to watch," I protested. "It just seems strange to me that the second everyone leaves us alone, you just become a different person-"

"**Clary**, can't you just consider the possibility that I don't necessarily want to be who everyone wants me to be anymore?" Jace snapped back, with haste and irritation. He relaxed his jaw slightly and cast his eyes downward. "Sorry to snap at you, but I'm tired of…" He trailed off, lost in thought. "Maybe I'm just tired," he mumbled, as if to himself.

Numbly, I pushed my salad around. I considered taking a bite, but suddenly felt like I wasn't hungry anymore. The idea that somewhere deep inside of this person seated in front of me was an actual human being rather than a maniacal jerk startled me. He was claiming things that I had no proof to believe him on, because for all I knew everyone was in on it and the conversation was being recorded for public humiliation on YouTube.

But with the seriousness of his tone, I could tell that this was the first time he was speaking some of these words. And the strangest part of it all was that he decided to speak them to me, the girl he picked on aggressively for four years. Here I was adding another thing to the list of things that only I know about him. It made me feel sick and queasy – that should not even be a list.

"I just think it's kind of bizarre that you chose now to decide to change yourself," I commented with honesty. "You've kind of got a lot of ground to make up if you plan to right yourself in any way for all that you've done."

He avoided eye contact as I spoke. It was sad, but he was the one I felt bad for – he was asking me, the girl he bullied, for a second chance when I was barely ready to give one to him. The reason I had stayed with him as long as I had today felt unknown, but it didn't feel like it was because I thought I owed him a second chance. Maybe I had always wanted him to feel like he owed me one.

"I suppose I was wrong to just spring it on you. You know, asking for your forgiveness and a second chance and all," he said thoughtfully, taking another bite of his salad and speaking with his mouth full. "It's bothered me all night after you left and all morning during class…things are falling into place for you and me."

I stared at him, dumbfounded, my jaw agape. "What do you mean things are falling into place for us?" I nearly choked on the words as they came out of my mouth, the taste bitter and surprising. These were words I never wanted to speak again, if I could help it.

"Don't you think it's sort of fate that we have all five classes together? That Isabelle, my sister, is your roommate? That you walked in on my reunion with my father and you haven't told a soul about it? **Clary**, this has to be a sign that you're here to help me change."

Dumbfounded, I stared at him, trying to decipher his face. Was he an evil replicant or a twin nobody knew about? Could I really be staring into the golden eyes of the real Jace Wayland?

And had he used my real name, not once but **twice** now?

My head started pounding and I felt immediately dizzy. I rubbed my temples in agitation, unsure what to think about the situation. This was what I had mentally prepared myself for earlier, and here I was feeling queasy and troubled about the mere thought of something as unexpected as this. That was a lot of pressure to find out that the person you practically despised not only expects you to keep a secret for him, but also asks for your forgiveness and a second chance, expecting you to be the person who will change him. How the hell would I do that, when just recently he was nearing the point of no-return in the "second chances category"?

Nausea bubbled up inside me, as I started to feel more and more uncomfortable with my current situation. Suddenly my legs were moving under me and I was sprinting away from the table, towards the bathroom, ready to lose my stomach contents in the toilet. The anxious energy I had felt all day about running away from my problems was catching up with me, especially now that I was hearing Jace's revelations about the fact that I was apparently his savior. My name and the word 'savior' do not belong in the same sentence as 'Jace Wayland'.

I guessed the true test would be to see if Jace could wait for my stomach to empty and not only that but not joke about it. After I felt less nauseated and able to return to my table, I slowly made my way back, expecting an empty table, but found Jace waiting. He was done eating, and when his eyes caught mine I saw a look of concern.

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. There was no way someone could change as quickly as he had – one day after the father-son incident – because previous to that he was tormenting me as usual. There was no way that this guy seated in front of me was the same person.

Uneasily I sat down and stared at the food I left untouched and felt woozy again. This was all happening too fast, all the concepts I couldn't handle – that Jace was actually opening up to me like this.

"If you can hold it in, we can walk to my dorm and you could nap the sick feeling away," Jace said, noting my expression. "I'd even make you pasta or something bland in the community kitchen once you feel better."

His offer seemed genuine. Despite the fact that I felt troubled about everything in the situation, I agreed, nodding my head quickly and with urgency – I needed to get back to a bathroom again, quickly. That was the only reason I accepted, I told myself.

We rushed back to his apartment and he handed me an empty trash basket to lean over. He flipped on the TV hanging on the wall above his dresser, which I hadn't noticed before. He instructed me to lay back into his bed to rest, but the request felt awkward and uncomfortable this time. We were getting too close for comfort.

"Clary Fray," he said sternly, when I objected to using his bed.

"So you do know my name?" I asked. It was the first thing I'd said since our talk at the dining hall before I had rushed out to throw up my nervous feelings.

He frowned and winked. "I know more about you than you think, Clarissa Adele Fray."

"Ouch, full name this time." I half-smiled, still slightly weirded out with the situation and with the fact that he somehow knew my middle name, which I expended immense amounts of effort covering up over the years. He must have snatched a teacher's seating chart in high school and read it, probably intending to use it as torture one day, though he never had.

"I will tuck you into that bed so tight that you will have to consciously breathe, if you don't make yourself comfortable this instant," he growled, in a voice I had never heard before.

I obeyed and ducked under the comforter of his bed. The sheets had yellow ducklings on them.

I started to laugh but he cut me off, "And do not laugh at my duck sheets, I've been stuck with them since Max died. If everyone would stop laughing at me about them, that would be great," he mumbled.

"What do you have against ducks?" I asked politely, trying to avoid the awkward conversation bordering on the topic of his brother's murder.

He shuddered, as if a winter breeze swept over the room. I didn't feel anything, just the warmth of his comforter and duck sheets. With that, he dropped the subject, closing the door and hitting the light switch, the room suddenly darkening except for the light of the TV.

"Mind if I crawl in?" he asked.

I nodded in the darkness, hoping he could see. If there was one thing that I was going to object to, it definitely wasn't going to be that; the proximity of his body against mine actually seemed like it would be comforting through it all. Better it be physical proximity than emotional – I wasn't sure I was ready to forgive and forget the terrible memories he gave me – the hair pulling, the dumpster dumping, the tears and the pain. An attractive – though, maniacal jerk – lying in the same bed with me didn't seem like such a bad thing, though. Could that ever be a bad thing?

He crawled under the blankets behind me and draped an arm across my stomach, which rumbled slightly since I hadn't finished my lunch. He moved his hand away, instead letting it cup the side of my curves. It felt strange, letting him touch me like that, when the only other person who got that close to me was Simon.

With the lights off and the warmth of Jace behind me, it was easy to drift in and out of consciousness, despite the flashing of the TV. I figured it was more for his benefit – otherwise something other than football might have been on the TV.

After a while – I wasn't sure how long – I awoke with a startle, my stomach feeling void of the sick feeling earlier, as Jace had said it would disappear if I napped. The door to Jace's room slammed open and the light flicked on.

Isabelle's nosy head poked into the room and she gasped. I was slowly regaining consciousness when I realized what she was seeing.

Sitting up too fast, I felt a head rush and nearly banged my head into Jace's, as he jolted upright to meet Isabelle's eyes, which were dark with resentment. Who knew that a girl so small and fragile looking could be so direct and poisonous.

* * *

**Sorry for the extremely long time between updates. I got sick and then stressed because of classes, and I even went home for a weekend to see my boyfriend. **

**As of right now, ****I'm going to abolish my update schedule because it's nearing the end of the school year and I've become a lot more stressed with exams and papers. I'll post when I can, but I can't make any promises. After December 6th, I will reinstate a posting schedule because that is the end of classes for me!**

**Again thanks to everyone for your reviews, follows and favorites! You can always leave questions in a review and I'll respond if you'd like. ****Let's hear some of your Isabelle theories as to what happened at the end of the chapter. Also, what do you think of Jace? Do you believe him? **

**Thanks again and take care!**

**-M**


End file.
